Who’s bad?!

xoxo,
Renata.

Behind the music of Michael Jackson was his love of putting a spark in the eye of a child who was economically or medically disadvantaged.

In 1988, after Jackson acquired the Sycamore Valley Ranch and renamed it Neverland, he installed many of the things he said he never got a chance to do as a child: Arcade games, Ferris wheel, carnival rides, a pond, waterslide, giant squirt guns, a menagerie …

School buses sponsored by various civic, social and church groups from the East Los Angeles and Compton areas transported hordes of underprivileged children, too poor to go to Disneyland, to theme park rides at Neverland. Jackson also equip Neverland to accommodate special needs children. Its 80-seat theater included three hospital beds for the chronic and terminal ill.

The Heal The World Foundation, founded by Jackson in 1992, hosted sleepovers for children with life threatening medical conditions and provided an opportunity for many of them to meet the famous singer. The Foundation also sent millions of dollars around the globe to help children threatened by war and disease.

Throughout June 1999, Jackson was involved in a number of charitable events. He joined Luciano Pavarotti for a benefit concert in Modena, Italy. The show was in support of the non-profit organization Warchild, where they raised a million dollars for the refugees of Kosovo, as well as additional funds for the children of Guatemala.

Jackson also organized a set of “Michael Jackson & Friends” benefit concerts in Germany and Korea. Other artists involved included Slash, the Scorpions, Boyz II Men, Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey, A. R. Rahman, Rabhu Deva Sundaram, Shobana Chandrakumar, Andrea Bocelli and Luciano Pavarotti. The proceeds went to the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund, the Red Cross and UNESCO.

Through the Heal The World Foundation Jackson airlifted 46 tons of supplies to Sarajevo, instituted drug and alcohol abuse education and donated millions of dollars to less fortunate children. During his Bad World Tour, Jackson invited underprivileged children to watch for free and gave donations to hospitals, orphanages and other charities. And all profits from his Dangerous World Tour concerts went to the Heal the World Foundation raising millions of dollars in relief.

“Everything I do is inspired by children. If it weren’t for children I’d throw in the towel. I’d have no reason to live,” Jackson once said. ” … I haven’t been betrayed or deceived by children. Adults have let me down.”

Jackson has done much to repay that source of inspiration. For the illness and death of Ryan white, he helped draw public attention to HIV/AIDS, something that was still controversial at the time. He publicly pleaded with the Clinton administration at Bill Clinton’s inaugural gala to give more money to HIV/AIDS charities and research.

He took Dave Dave (Dave Rothenberg), a California youth, into his life and into the hearts of the Jackson family, and was like a father figure to the boy, after his real father had doused him with kerosene, lit a match, and burnt 90% of his 6 year old body. Michael Jackson was a friend to Dave Dave for over 30 years.

When the singer toured abroad much of his free time was spent visiting children hospitals. On one trip he came upon a Hungarian child with blue pigment. After learning that the boy was dying for need of a liver transplant, Jackson immediately tendered full payment for the operation.

In 2000, he was listed in the book of Guinness World Records for his support of 39 different charities, more than any other entertainer. However as early as 1984, Jackson was invited to the White House to receive an award from President Ronald Reagan for his support of charities that helped people overcome alcohol and drug abuse.

Portraying himself as an advocate for children around the world, he was once quoted as saying, “Mother Teresa’s not here, Lady Di is not here, Audrey Hepburn is not here… there is no voice for the voiceless.”

And now that Michael Jackson is no longer here, in the eyes of many disadvantaged children, there is no spark.

NOTE: This is happening 2 hours AFTER the Elements X workshops.

The latest in a series of FREE workshops brings two of the scene’s most renowned dancers to the Ocean State.  (If you didn’t know, that’s Rhode Island.  Really.)

Julio Morales (The Lost Kids, Neverland) & Rocko Luciano (Boxcuttuhz ABDC 3, Neverland) are coming to Providence, RI on Sunday, November 15 from 6:00-8:00 PM. The classes will be held at TF Green Hall, Room 205, at Brown University – and as always, they’re FREE.  Registration starts at 5:30 – and these classes tend to be crowded, so get there early if you want a good spot.

Details are here at the Facebook Event.

The classes are co-sponsored by Rhode Island’s own imPulse Dance Company, Fusion Dance Company, and Aesthetic Flo.  Be on the lookout for more classes in the future… and a major announcement for Rhode Island in the upcoming days…

All of the guest judges at Elements X will ALSO be teaching 9 workshops over the course of the following 2 days. The classes will be held at the dance studio of the Sargent Activities Center (SAC) at Boston University.

DAY 1 – November 15, 2009 | 10:00am Registration

11:00am | Glory Mendoza (Funkanometry SF Artistic Director)
12:00pm | Brian Puspos (SoReal Cru)
01:00pm | Adrian Causing (FR3SH Executive Director)
02:00pm | Andrew Baterina (SoReal Cru Director)
03:00pm | Lando Wilkins (Boxcuttuhz Director)

Day 2 – November 16, 2009 | 05:00pm Registration

06:00pm | Leslie Hubilla (FR3SH Artistic Director)
07:00pm | Kyle Hanagami (The Lost Kids Artistic Director)
08:00pm | Elm Pizarro (Boogiezone Founder)
09:00pm | Rocko Luciano (Boxcuttuhz)

RATES (apply per day):
1 class: $16
2 classes: $26
3 classes: $34
4 classes: $40
5 classes: $44

Do the math:  If you take all 9 classes, it comes out to $9.33 per class – an insane bargain, especially in these rough economic times.  Shouts to Fusion for looking out for all of us – on the economic tip, as well as the dancing =D

Elements X, Boston’s largest hip hop dance competition, is going down this Saturday.  Recently HHDA Certified for its 10th anniversary, Elements X is definitely a show not to miss.

“On Saturday, November 14th, 2009, ELEMENTS X is giving Boston and East Coast crews the opportunity to go head-to-head in a full concert format competition to be held in the gorgeous, 1600+ seat Boston Colonial Theatre, located in the heart of the city. 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners will be presented awards and prizes, with the $1000 grand prize being awarded to 1st place.”

PRE-SHOW:
BlackOut Step Team
Part Time Models
VEN15
Jam’nastics

COMPETING TEAMS:
8 Count (MA)
EPIC Motion (NYU)
Kinematix (NortheasternU)
Point Blank (PA)
Project D (NJ)
Ridonkulous (MIT)
SERCisCompany (NJ)
Spirit of Color (Tufts)
Static Noyze (MA)
Synergy (Boston College)
Unofficial Project (BostonU)
Vibes (BostonU)
World Class Dancers (NY)

EXHIBITION TEAMS:
FUSiON
FR3SH Dance Company
FR3SH 7 (America’s Best Dance Crew Season 4)
Funkanometry San Francisco
Phunk Phenomenon
Lil Phunk
NeverLand (a new company under The Lost Kids)
SoReal Cru (America’s Best Dance Crew Season 2 Finalists)

JUDGES:
Andrew Baterina (SoReal Cru Director)
Adrian Causing (FR3SH Dance Company Executive Director)
Kyle Hanagami (NeverLand Artistic Director)
Leslie Hubilla (FR3SH Artistic Director)
Rocko Luciano (Boxcuttuhz)
Glory Mendoza (Funk SF Artistic Director)
Elm Pizzaro (Boogiezone)
Brian Puspos (SoReal Cru)
Lando Wilkins (Boxcuttuhz Director)

Doors open at 5:00 PM.  Be there.

www.elementsdancecomp.com

Author: Larry Carter
Source: ezinearticles.com

Behind the music of Michael Jackson was his love of putting a spark in the eye of a child who was economically or medically disadvantaged.

In 1988, after Jackson acquired the Sycamore Valley Ranch and renamed it Neverland, he installed many of the things he said he never got a chance to do as a child: Arcade games, Ferris wheel, carnival rides, a pond, waterslide, giant squirt guns, a menagerie …

School buses sponsored by various civic, social and church groups from the East Los Angeles and Compton areas transported hordes of underprivileged children, too poor to go to Disneyland, to theme park rides at Neverland. Jackson also equip Neverland to accommodate special needs children. Its 80-seat theater included three hospital beds for the chronic and terminal ill.

The Heal The World Foundation, founded by Jackson in 1992, hosted sleepovers for children with life threatening medical conditions and provided an opportunity for many of them to meet the famous singer. The Foundation also sent millions of dollars around the globe to help children threatened by war and disease.

Throughout June 1999, Jackson was involved in a number of charitable events. He joined Luciano Pavarotti for a benefit concert in Modena, Italy. The show was in support of the non-profit organization Warchild, where they raised a million dollars for the refugees of Kosovo, as well as additional funds for the children of Guatemala.

Jackson also organized a set of “Michael Jackson & Friends” benefit concerts in Germany and Korea. Other artists involved included Slash, the Scorpions, Boyz II Men, Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey, A. R. Rahman, Rabhu Deva Sundaram, Shobana Chandrakumar, Andrea Bocelli and Luciano Pavarotti. The proceeds went to the Nelson Mandela Children’s Fund, the Red Cross and UNESCO.

Through the Heal The World Foundation Jackson airlifted 46 tons of supplies to Sarajevo, instituted drug and alcohol abuse education and donated millions of dollars to less fortunate children. During his Bad World Tour, Jackson invited underprivileged children to watch for free and gave donations to hospitals, orphanages and other charities. And all profits from his Dangerous World Tour concerts went to the Heal the World Foundation raising millions of dollars in relief.

“Everything I do is inspired by children. If it weren’t for children I’d throw in the towel. I’d have no reason to live,” Jackson once said. ” … I haven’t been betrayed or deceived by children. Adults have let me down.”

Jackson has done much to repay that source of inspiration. For the illness and death of Ryan white, he helped draw public attention to HIV/AIDS, something that was still controversial at the time. He publicly pleaded with the Clinton administration at Bill Clinton’s inaugural gala to give more money to HIV/AIDS charities and, “Michael Jackson“, research.

He took Dave Dave (Dave Rothenberg), a California youth, into his life and into the hearts of the Jackson family, and was like a father figure to the boy, after his real father had doused him with kerosene, lit a match, and burnt 90% of his 6 year old body. Michael Jackson was a friend to Dave Dave for over 30 years.

When the singer toured abroad much of his free time was spent visiting children hospitals. On one trip he came upon a Hungarian child with blue pigment. After learning that the boy was dying for need of a liver transplant, Jackson immediately tendered full payment for the operation.

In 2000, he was listed in the book of Guinness World Records for, “Michael Jackson“, his support of 39 different charities, more than any other entertainer. However as early as 1984, Jackson was invited to the White House to receive an award from President Ronald Reagan for his support of charities that helped people overcome alcohol and drug abuse.

Portraying himself as an advocate for children around the world, he was once quoted as saying, “Mother Teresa’s not here, Lady Di is not here, Audrey Hepburn is not here… there is no voice for the voiceless.”

And now that Michael Jackson is no longer here, in the eyes of many disadvantaged children, there is no spark.

Larry Carter is an Old-School scholar, a life-long follower and avid fan of Michael Jackson. His articles seek to debunk traditional American media misrepresentations of the most extraordinary entertainer and personality of our times. He is currently working on a book about the International Superstar.
http://www.SuperStarOfPop.com

Since I’ve been on a Neverland kick these past couple weeks, I figured for my “simple” post of the day, I’d include the map:

Click on the thumbnail for full-size image:

View the other Neverland entries:

-A fan’s account of Neverland Ranch part 1
-A fan’s account of Neverland Ranch part 2
-Neverland in a way I have never seen it

***

EL ENCUENTRO (parte I)

No recuerdo la primera vez que te vi, pero sí que recuerdo que no le di mayor importancia a aquel encuentro. Eras un joven más que se cruzaba en mi camino y con el que charlaba cordial y educadamente, teníamos cosas en común pero ahí acababa todo. Había visto tu trabajo, y me había sorprendido ver la dedicación que demostrabas a tu labor…

Cuando llegué a casa después de aquel encuentro, ya ni me acordaba de haberte visto aquel día, sólo había sido un encuentro casual con un desconocido con el que tuve una pequeña conversación, nada más. Hice lo de siempre: quitarme los zapatos y dejarlos en la entrada, quitarme el abrigo y dejarlo en el gancho de la pared del recibidor. Caminé descalza hasta el baño y me desnudé lentamente mientras dejaba que la bañera se llenase lentamente de agua. Tomé mi bote de sal marina y dejé caer su contenido al agua caliente, mezclándola con suaves y distraídos movimientos de mi mano derecha. Cuando me puse en pie para introducirme en la bañera, alcé mi brazo izquierdo para acariciar las conchas que había recogido hacía años en la playa donde crecí y con las que había formado un móvil con ayuda de palos y cuerdas.

Todo en el baño me recordaba a mi hogar, quizá por eso era mi estancia preferida de la casa. La alfombra tenía la imagen de dos delfines saltando las olas del mar y el suelo tenía el color del agua del océano con una vetas blancas haciendo el efecto de su espuma. Entrar allí era como regresar a casa. Me introduje en el agua y me sumergí al tumbarme contra la pared de la bañera. Me gustaba aislarme del mundo cuando mi cabeza estaba bajo el agua y todos los sonidos desaparecían.

¿Todos? No… algo retumbaba en mis oídos, una melodía casi hipnótica que me hizo sentarme y agudizar el oído. No había puesto la radio al llegar, de eso estaba segura… ¿de dónde procedía aquella música?. Me envolví rápidamente en una toalla azul y salí descalza y con el agua dejando un rastro tras de mí al caer de mis negros cabellos. No importaba la impresión que pudiese causar mi actitud, sólo importaba una cosa: encontrar el origen de aquella melodía mágica.

Llegué al balcón y, sin importar la nieve que caía afuera, abrí sus puertas correderas y salí a asomarme. allí abajo estabas tú, con aquel instrumento divino que siempre me había encandilado. La música que arrancabas con tus manos de aquel violín me convirtieron, sin saberlo, en tu esclava. No podría ya nunca librarme de aquel embrujo. Coloqué mi brazo derecho en la balaustrada del balcón y apoyé mi mejila en mi mano para descansar ahí mi cabeza mientras admiraba la virtuosidad de esas manos, capaces de crear esa música irrepetible.

Mi corazón se alejaba de mí a cada nota que salía de tu violín y se iba acercando un poco más a ti a cada latido. Supe entonces que jamás lo recuperaría y que para poder seguir viviendo, tendría que permanecer cerca de ti… pues no hay quien pueda vivir sin corazón y el mío se negaba a abandonarte…

——————

Sonia Rincón | Blog “El Árbol” / Blog “Neverland” / Foro Auryn

ZERO.

I wonder where you are at…

Did God take you where you belong?

Did God take you to…

Neverland?

—

PART

The girl sat quietly in the large, cushioned benches outside the doctor’s office. She could hear her mother’s sobs and her father’s comforting words as she swung her short legs. Her legs were tired from sitting at the bench for so long. They were too short, so they didn’t touch the floor. Hanging and swinging like a pendulum, she waited for her parents to come out of the room.

As her mother broke into another chorus of cries and tears, Sae knew she would be waiting for a long time. But sooner than expected, her father came out the room with a mournful expression. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something wrong. Sae popped off the chair and run to her daddy.

He gently embraced her as her mother hobbled out the office, guided by the doctor. Then with his strong arms, Mr. Lyu lifted Sae up and onto his broad shoulders. She giggled as her father tickled her sides. After squirming for a good while, Sae finally settled down.

“Mommy?” she asked quietly. “Are you okay?”

Mrs. Lyu looked up at her precious jewel. She felt the tears surging again as her daughter gazed down with large, crystal, innocent eyes. Lifting a handkerchief to her face, she dabbed her eyes to keep them dry. Then she smiled at her daughter. She motioned for her husband to bring her down.

Reluctantly, Mr. Lyu lifted his daughter off his shoulders. He placed her on the bench as Mrs. Lyu cupped her daughter’s hand in hers. She whispered in an attentive but agonizingly sad voice, “Honey, the doctors say you are sick. You might have to live in the hospital for a while.”

From afar, Mr. Johnson, their family doctor, the pediatrician of the town, shook his head. Another baby had fallen to the dangerous radio waves from the Hiroshima bombing. This case was more tragic than most, because the Lyu family had been forced to come by business reasons. There weren’t here for more than a month when their daughter was infected. It shouldn’t happen, figuratively but there are times when the God up there just works in strange ways.

What sadden him more was that this was the least of his problems. The biggest case was a boy named Peter. His traditional Japanese name was Yusu but he always wanted to be called Peter.

Peter was unique but he had no friends. They didn’t dare put him in a room with others because he was simply adored. He was such an adorable child that they were scared others would get attached to him. Johnson sighed as he opened the Lyu file once more.

Sae Lyu had leukemia – a common disease since the bombing. What Johnson regretted the most was that there was no more room in the hospital. If he could, he would have added a bed to another room but it was already crammed. With a regretful heart, he assigned Sae the same room number as Yusu.

Mrs. Lyu trembled as the car approached the hospital. Leukemia was not a genetic disease within the family. In fact, any type of cancer was nonexistent in the family genes. They were always a healthy group by she couldn’t help the thought that Sae would be the first to suffer.

Sae, on the other hand, had no idea what was in store for her. She was always an optimistic girl. Even though she hardly talked, her smiles and dimples made up for her voice. She watched the limousine pull up in front of the hospital. The doors unlocked as her chauffeur opened it for her. Mumbling a timid, ‘thank you,’ she then made her way to the front door.

706N

That was her room number. After many tears and kisses, Mrs. Lyu finally left the room. The only thing that dragged her out of the room was the constant reminder from her chauffeur that she had an important meeting with the CEO of Sony. Before tearing herself away from her daughter, she gave her one last wet kiss.

Sae looked around the room. It was empty but extremely clean. There was a strange blue hint to the place that made her feel calm and peaceful. According to the nice nurse, this was the nicest room in the hotel. Other rooms were painted a sickly, pale green. Sae smiled as she crawled onto her bed.

“Ow!” a voice muttered. “Get off me!”

Horrified, Sae quickly crawled off the bed. The nurses had neglected to tell her that she was sharing a room with someone. Sae shuffled herself to the corner of the room. She stood in the lonesome corner as the creature in the bed began to move.

The covers slowly came off to reveal a little boy, around her age. He had small eyes, a tall nose and firm lips. He glared at her with piercing, but sparkly eyes as he grinned. His dimples shouted greetings to her as he waved.

Shyly, she waved back. The boy threw the covers away as he jumped off the bed. For a moment, his knees buckled, almost completely giving way. But with a quick reflex, he grabbed onto the bed and steadied himself.

“Hi, my name is Peter!”

Sae stayed in her corner but looked at the cheerful boy. She muttered her name softly but the boy didn’t seem to hear. He slowly made his way towards her. Sae suddenly noticed how tall this boy was. For the age of eight, he was almost as taller than the grand piano that remained untouched in her mother’s recreation room.

“Sometimes the Japanese nurses call me Yusu, but I like Peter more.”

His mouth gaped open as Sae got a good look at his teeth. They were small and white, like the pearls around her mother’s neck. All of them were in place. Sae forgot about her shyness and pointed at the boy’s teeth.

“I lost some of mine,” she said. She grinned for him to see. One of her two front teeth was missing. “See?”

Peter laughed as he saw the gap. He rubbed his tongue over his tooth, trying to feel if it was lose. The doctors told him that he might not grow as fast as the other children. There were certain moments that made him distrust them, moments when he looked into the mirror and saw his abnormal height. Then there were moments that made him believe them, moments like these when he saw that his teeth were still intact.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

This time he got an answer.

“Sae.”

.

“Ah!!” Sae screamed as Peter chased her around the room. They were playing this game of hide and seek but there weren’t many places to hide in. It was either under the bed, in the closet or in the bathroom. After a while, they gave up and played tag. Her arms were flying in the air as Peter ran after her.

He had grown since the first time Sae had met him, that was a year ago. Taller and broader in most in ways, his shoulder had begun to widen and his face was becoming distinctly shaped. Peter’s blubbery cheeks had disappeared and become sunken in. It was a gradual process, so gradual that it took Sae a while to notice.

Peter finally caught her and swung her up in his arms. He could carry her now. He was strong enough to carry her on his back and run around for a good half n’ hour. These two kids were the only ones that the nurses allowed to run around in the park by themselves, partially because of Peter’s size and because they were the favorites of the hospital. Other kids began to hate them but they didn’t care. As long as Sae had Peter and Peter had Sae, they didn’t care.

—

“SAE!” Peter cried as the door opened. A nurse smiled weakly at Sae as she closed the door after Peter. With clobbering, clumsy feet, Peter ran towards Sae, who was sitting in her bed, reading a book.

She immediately dropped the book and gave Peter a hug. “What’s wrong Peter?” she whispered as the large boy buried his head in her lap. Even though he was too big for her bed, he liked to crawl in and share it with her. The bed constantly creaked underneath his weight but it remained stubborn and stood firm.

“They said they have to move me,” he muttered. Sae’s heart dropped. Move Peter? To where? He shook his head as the vibrations rang through her body. She felt her heart beat screaming along with his silent protests. “They said I have to go to another hospital. I don’t want to go.”

“Maybe it’s for the better?” she asked. She tried to be optimistic about it. After all, that was what her father taught her. Be happy, look on the bright side, every dark cloud has a silver lining. “Maybe you’ll get better in the other hospital.”

Peter’s head jerked up. He looked at her with teary, glossed eyes and stomped off to his own bed. Throwing the covers over his head, he yelled into his pillow. His voice had changed a lot as well as his physical build. It was slowly becoming lower as the days went by.

Sae made out a faint noise as Peter muttered.

“I don’t want to move. I wish I were an adult. I wish I could grow up. If I were a grown up, no one could tell me what to do.” His head peaked from the sanctuary of the covers. He stared at Sae intensely in the eyes. He held determination in his eyes as she stared back. “I’m going to grow up, then I can take us both away from this hospital and we will live happily ever after.”

Then he threw the covers back over and played through his temper tantrum. Sae stared at the bulk on the bed with sad eyes. She didn’t want him to move either. She didn’t want him to go at all.

But a few days later, they came and took him away.

—

Sae sighed as she looked out the window. Peter was taken away about a year ago and they never replaced his place. Not that she wanted a replacement. When they asked her if she wanted a roommate, she always refused. She wanted to keep this place empty for Peter, so when he came back, he would know what she was thinking.

I miss you Peter.

The door creaked open as an old nurse popped her head in.

“Sae?” she whispered in that crackly voice of hers.

Sae lifted a hand to show that she heard.

“There’s a new roommate for you.”

Sae pressed her cheek against the window, feeling the cool touch against her warm skin. It felt soothing. Then loud footsteps entered the room. Sae’s sense immediately perked. There was only one person who walked like this. Only one person she ever knew who clobbered into a room like he had just finished a twenty hundred mile marathon in five minutes. Daringly, she turned her head.

Peter.

There was her Peter, with the same cheeky grin but he was different. He was taller, broader, and stronger. And he definitely did not look like he was nine years old. This Peter fitted into clothing that her father wore to dinner banquets. He towered a good foot over her as Sae stared at him. His arms were open wide as he rushed forward to hug her.

“I told you I was going to grow up,” he said, linking her pinky with his.

They had a lot of fun times together. The nurses let them out more often because Peter was practically the size of a full-grown man. He carried Sae on his shoulders and gave her piggybacks rides wherever she wanted to go. Peter always stood tall and proud in front of Sae, as if to boast that whatever he said was magic.

But as time went by, Peter began to grow weaker and weaker. The doctors came in for more frequent checkups and soon began to take him away for days at a time. Sae could only watch as the treatments began to last over for weeks. She began to understand that there was something dreadfully wrong with Peter – and it had to do with his sudden growth.

Peter’s body kept growing. He had the body of a fifty year old but the mind of a ten year old. Even as they played in the park, they couldn’t get along well without people staring at them. After a while, they completely gave up the idea of going out. It didn’t matter though because Peter no longer had the energy to carry Sae. She was slowly growing as well.

“I wish I never made that decision,” he said tiredly, as the nurse left the room. “I wish I decided to grow up like a normal kid. I don’t want to grow up anymore.”

Sae didn’t say a word. She didn’t know what to say. With sad eyes, she watched her best friend disappear under the covers. She wanted to comfort him but there were no words for his situation. Sae wanted to reach out and give him a hug, for that’s what her father always did to her, but he was too large for her small self.

After that incident, Peter began to cheer up. As if a veil had been lifted, Peter began to beckon Sae to play with him again. Though his body couldn’t exercise too much, he spent as much time as he could with Sae. A year passed by quickly but changes were evident.

Peter’s body had shifted to that of a seventy year old man. Sae was the only one who didn’t fear him. She knew what he was like on the inside and that’s what she loved about him. As old as he looked, his appearance never stopped him from acting young. Every time she looked at him, her heart cried at the sight of his aging body. If only he hadn’t made that stupid wish…Miracles happen, but couldn’t they stop?

One day, Peter was gone. Sae rushed around the room, looking in the old hiding places. She looked under the bed, in the bathroom and even in the cramped closet. Peter was nowhere to be seen. Even when the nurse came in to take Sae to her weekly appointment, Peter didn’t come out.

Grief took Sae’s heart when the nurse shrugged at the mention of Peter’s name. She asked Dr. Johnson after her appointment but he shrugged as well. Peter should be in his room, he said. If not, then no one knew where Peter was.

Before going back to her room, Sae ran all over the hospital, looking for Peter. No one knew where he was. Even the children that once hated her gave her sorry looks as she rushed out of the room to look in the next. Finally, a nurse came and dragged Sae back to her room.

The room was dark. The curtains were pulled and the lights failed to turn on. Sae turned around to complain when she saw a flicker appear from the bathroom door. In front of her, stood Peter with a birthday cake in his hands. He sang a beautiful song for her in his raspy voice as he took careful steps. He trembled as he lowered the cake onto the top.

“Happy birthday, Sae.”

She smiled with teary eyes as she rushed forward to give her king a hug. He warmly embraced her as her whispered softly into her ear. Words that made her heart jump and cry at the same time. Word that she hadn’t heard from a long time, even from her parents. Words that were enough to make a girl buckle with joy.

“I love you.”

Three months later, Peter disappeared.

—

INFINITY.

It took me five years to find him again.

After my parents decided to move me to America where professional doctors could treat my leukemia. Two years of chemotherapy and a year of rehabilitation took away three years of my childhood. I played with other children but no one could capture my attention the way Peter did.

I graduated from UC Berkley with an outstanding GPA. I majored in biology and became a pediatrician with a PHD. I was hired to work in a hospital in Hiroshima with children who suffered from the after effects of the atomic bomb. The pay wasn’t much but what drew me there were the memories.

After working there for a year, I came across the old files of Dr. Johnson. I discovered various files on the children that I had encountered with when I was eight. Most of the diseases were types of cancer. Just when I was about to give up, a confidential file dropped out of the stack. Written neatly in print, in dark ballpoint ink, was the name I hadn’t heard in years.

Yusu, Peter.

Mother – Sayuri Toyota, deceased. Father – Kenneth Johnson, Head of the Hiroshima Children’s hospital.

Birth date – July 2, 1972

Weight – 30 kg.

Height – 4″5

Condition – Suffering from Progeria.

I quickly put away the files and slipped Peter’s with me. Running to my office, I rushed in and locked the door behind me. I sat at my computer as I researched this foreign word.

Progeria, other wise known as the Hutchinson-Gilford Progeria syndrome. More accuraltly known as the ‘alcelerrating aging’ disease. The Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome causes great physical changes over the years to the sufferers. This disease affects about one in four million newborn children. Most carriers of this disease die within ten to thirteen years of live. There is no known cure.

Did God take you where you belong?

Did God take you to…

Neverland?

I had about 45 minutes before my sisters had to leave to go to their fall festival. Their costumes sparked some interest in my photographic mind and I just HAD to take a couple pictures at least! (ok, 200+ but who’s counting)

Anyway, here are some of the shots from that quick shoot – let me know what you think.

For the most part I was taking pictures of Anna – the other two girls weren’t quite ready yet.

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Aaannnddd… a graphical rendition of the same photo:

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Finally the other girls came out! It was getting late and about time to get started on our journey…

…to Neverland!

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P.S. – all of the photos were taken using natural light and reflectors.

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UNA EXTRAÑA MAÑANA

Era invierno, de eso estoy segura porque el frío era cortante y la nieve no dejaba de caer sobre las repisas de las ventanas. Me acababa de despertar el tintineo del quitamiedos con estrellitas de nácar que teníamos en la ventana al danzar con el incesante viento que hacía correr a las grises nubes que auguraban un duro invierno. Llevaba unos meses en aquella ciudad sombría y gris que tan poco me gustaba pero que tan bien nos estaba tratando a mi marido y a mí. Habíamos llegado hacía sólo unos tres meses y la misma semana de acomodarnos en el apartamento le llamaron los representantes de uno de los hombres más ricos de Europa: el Señor Don Juan Uriarte, dueño de varias empresas, garajes, ranchos en el extranjero… Le informaron de que dicho señor deseaba tenerle como ejecutivo jurídico, que fuese su abogado y asesor y le administrase los negocios que tenía en Vitoria en sus largas y frecuentes ausencias. En menos de un mes, yo ya estaba trabajando en un instituto politécnico de jesuitas subvencionado por la Caja Vital – la caja de ahorros -  donde se impartían clases de secundaria, bachillerato y ciclos formativos. Mi labor sería sustituir a Mila, la antigua profesora de inglés que estaría en Londres durante tres años para pulir y mejorar sus dotes lingüísticas sajonas…

Vitoria, a pesar de su pequeño tamaño, seguía siendo todo un misterio para mí, sólo conocía la calle donde estaba nuestro apartamento, el camino al instituto, al edificio de oficinas donde trabajaba Rubén y al supermercado. Recuerdo que los primeros días no salía de casa por miedo a perderme, esperaba a Rubén y, era entonces, cuando salíamos a dar un paseo con el pequeño David. Con el tiempo, conocí a algunos vecinos y fui haciendo amistades pero, aún así, seguía esperando a mi marido para salir, era como si me asustase la idea de ir a cualquier lugar de aquella ciudad sin él.

Me levanté de la cama sigilosamente y fui al dormitorio de David que aún dormía en su cuna, destapado como siempre, con el chupete puesto del revés y una piernecita colgando por fuera de los barrotes laterales. Apagué la lámpara, en forma de Luna llena con un Sol dentro, que seguía otorgándole una tenue luz a la estancia iluminada ahora por los escasos y débiles rayos del sol de aquella fría e invernal mañana del mes de enero. Fui a la cocina a preparar los desayunos, había sobrado café de la noche anterior que tuvimos visita de unos compañeros de trabajo de Rubén pero preferí tirarlo y hacerlo nuevo. El desayuno de David era más sencillo, calentarle el biberón con un poco de leche en el microondas, echar una cucharadita de cacao y agitarlo. Los nuestros eran “desayunos de reyes”, como solían llamarlos mis padres. Antes del café, tomábamos un zumo de naranja y unos huevos revueltos con jamón cocido. Acompañando el café, unas tostadas con mantequilla y mermelada y, a veces, si nos daba tiempo, unos cereales o galletas. Tratábamos de alargar la hora del desayuno lo máximo posible pues, no coincidiríamos hasta la noche.

David fue el primero en dar señales de vida, se le escuchaba juguetear con el chupete y los barrotes de la cuna, era su modo de indicar que estaba despierto. Le saqué de la cuna, le cambié el pañal y le vestí. Tomándolo en brazos, lo llevé a la sala donde su biberón esperaba sobre la mesa de roble que yo misma había tallado con la ayuda de mi marido hacía ya tres veranos. En cuanto David vio su desayuno, todo dejó de existir, ya no quería el chupete, sólo su botellita con la tetina y su contenido. Se lo acerqué y acabaron los llantos que hacía cinco minutos habían indicado su necesidad de alimento. Una sonrisa iluminó su rostro y, acto seguido, comenzó a beber. Durante un tiempo no muy largo no se escuchó nada que no fuese la respiración de mi hijo mientras bebía a toda prisa y en menos de dos minutos, había terminado.

Lo dejé gateando en la alfombra persa, que en un tiempo fue roja y ahora parecía casi anaranjada debido al desgaste y al paso de los años. Mi madre la había heredado de mi abuela pero, como a ella le parecía horrible y yo sentía predilección por ella, me la regaló antes de mudarme con mi marido y mi hijo a Vitoria. Aquella alfombra tenía un olor peculiar, no desagradable pero sí diferente, único… Recordaba a la hierbabuena pero era aún más intenso. Había días que me olía más a vainilla y otros a canela. Era como si cada centímetro de la alfombra desprendiese un aroma diferente. A David le gustaba mucho jugar sobre ella y, a las noches, mientras Rubén y yo veíamos la televisión o trabajábamos con nuestros papeles, se quedaba dormido hecho un ovillo junto a la canastilla de Merlín, nuestro gato. Esa alfombra perteneció a mi abuela y antes, a su madre, que la heredó de la suya, era una herencia familiar. Se remontaba a tantas generaciones que mi madre nunca supo decirme con exactitud quién de nuestro clan irlandés la compró.

Yo soy la última de ese clan, la última que llevó el apellido de la familia y la última con un nombre que arrastraba una interesante historia tras él… A mi hijo quise ponerle también un nombre de origen irlandés pero, mi marido me pidió que el nombre fuese David, en memoria de su mejor amigo, fallecido hacía años víctima de una grave enfermedad ocular. Mis padres parecieron felices ante aquella decisión, murmuraron algo como “bastantes desgracias trajeron esos nombres”, comentario que nunca comprendí, siendo mi padre escocés y mi madre irlandesa.

Como iba diciendo, aquella mañana se presentaba como todas las demás: trabajo hasta las once, que teníamos los quince minutos de descanso que nos proporcionaba el recreo de los alumnos a los profesores, el café en la cafetería de la plaza San Antón, junto al instituto – íbamos aquellos a los que no nos tocaba hacer la guardia en el patio para que no hubiese peleas-, más clases, la comida en el comedor del instituto, de nuevo más clases, la reunión diaria para evaluar cómo iba el nivel de aprendizaje de los alumnos en cada asignatura y, por fin, cerca ya de las ocho y media – las nueve a veces -, volvía a mi casa, buscando la paz y el calor que sólo mi familia era capaz de otorgarme.

Rubén comenzaba a vestirse, lo supe por el chirriante ruido de la puerta izquierda de su armario, esa a la que le iba a poner un poco de aceite “mañana sin falta” pero, que tras dos meses, seguía igual. Al momento le escuché dirigirse al servicio a peinarse, lavarse y echarse su colonia preferida: CK One con unas gotas de esencia de Musk. Cuando apareció en el arco de la entrada al comedor, parecía un actor de esos que las quinceañeras veneran y coleccionan fotos de recortes de revistas y las mujeres desean tener a su lado por el resto de sus días. Había recogido su ondulada y suave melena de color castaño oscuro en una coleta y llevaba puestas las gafas para leer los titulares del periódico del día anterior. Tenía un aire de joven intelectual, mi filósofo, mi niño prodigio. Estaba simplemente deslumbrante con aquella camisa blanca de corte italiano que tanto me gustaba, la que le regalé el verano anterior en nuestro viaje a Venecia y que seguía haciéndole aún más atractivo a mis ojos y a los de muchas otras mujeres, me arriesgaría a añadir. Se había puesto una corbata azul marina con diminutas anclas doradas bordadas y unos pantalones de pinza negros y recuerdo que sus calcetines blancos destacaban con los negros y relucientes zapatos. Completó el traje con la chaqueta de Versase que le compré por Navidad, tomó su maletín de cuero negro, en el que llevaba su portátil y los papeles que necesitaría ese día en la empresa y me saludó con una sonrisa cautivadora que le hizo parecer un muchacho pícaro con la mente llena de travesuras para efectuar en cuanto tuviese la primera oportunidad. Sus ojos marrones brillaron al besarme en los labios y sentarse a la mesa a desayunar.

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Sonia Rincón | Blog “El Árbol” / Blog “Neverland” / Foro Auryn

The King of Pop’s posthumous success has produced a gusher of money. Now, where his estate is concerned, the Michael Jackson show is just getting started.

By Richard Siklos, editor at large
Last Updated: October 23, 2009: 2:25 PM ET

Fortune Magazine) — On a recent Friday afternoon, workers toiled away at Neverland Ranch as part of a curious restoration effort that accelerated after Michael Jackson’s sudden death on June 25. The main grounds of the 2,700-acre property had been cleared of encroaching chaparral and were now close to the condition they had been in when Jackson last set foot here some five years ago.

The flower beds next to the Disneyland-replica train station were pristine, though the trains were in storage and the midway amusement rides and zoo animals that once populated the property were gone. The Tudor-style mansion, guesthouse, and separate movie theater/dance studio were in move-in condition. The theater even had fresh candy at its concession stand, though the building’s only inhabitant was a wayward bat stranded in the restroom.

It was a bit sad and eerie, albeit, from an MTV Cribs kind of viewpoint, quite excellent.

Through all the hoopla following Jackson’s death, no one has said publicly what will become of Neverland, which Los Angeles private equity firm Colony Capital took control of after the property nearly went into foreclosure last year.

The Jackson family’s desire to have Michael’s body interred here proved too complicated, as has the notion of turning it into a Graceland-like destination for fans. There is talk of moving some of the property’s structures, which include a giraffe barn, to Las Vegas with an eye to establishing a Neverland attraction there and selling the ranch.

Under terms of an agreement struck with Jackson after Colony purchased the note on the property for $23.5 million, when Neverland is eventually sold, Colony will recoup its investment in the note plus accrued interest, its management and upkeep expenses, and around 12% of everything above that as a success fee. The rest will go to Jackson’s estate.

While he declined to confirm the details of his arrangement with Jackson, Tom Barrack, the CEO of Colony, says the Neverland property ought to be worth $60 million to $70 million.

If so, that would be just one source of a sudden gusher of money into Jackson’s estate, the bulk of which he left to his mother and three young children.

Two years ago Jackson was headed for insolvency, a consequence of having barely worked in nearly a decade, a period during which he fought child molestation charges and became better known for his eccentricities than for his musical skills. The deal with Colony, and Jackson’s decision to stage a series of comeback concerts, were his way out from under debts that had grown from $90 million a decade ago to around $435 million today.

Though Jackson made some savvy investments early in his career, his loans piled up through an astonishing combination of careless financial decisions — made with an oft-changing and colorful parade of business advisers — a mountain of legal bills and distractions, and uncontrollable spending.

“When it came to money, he was almost a contradiction,” says Randy Phillips, who runs the company that planned to stage Jackson’s comeback. “He didn’t care about money but liked to spend money and knew that he had to make money.”

His demise might have been a tragic postscript to a faded career. Instead, the singer is having a posthumous comeback that promises to dwarf that of Elvis Presley (whose daughter Jackson was once married to). This year Jackson’s estate stands to bring in close to $200 million from music sales, merchandising, and book deals; an exhibition of memorabilia; and especially a hastily made documentary based on his comeback concert rehearsals that hits theaters Oct. 28.

The film, “This Is It,” is tracking to be a box office success — with more tickets presold than the next “Twilight” installment — and riches from DVD sales could follow. Jackson has sold some 5 million albums and 10 million downloads since his death in the U.S. alone, according to Soundscan, and plans are in the works for at least two albums of unreleased songs. (To put that in perspective, he had sold just under 300,000 records in the half-year before his death.)

In all, Jackson’s estate would likely be worth $100 million or more if it were liquidated today, but properly managed, it ought to be worth multiples more in time.

The story of Michael’s millions — reconstructed here from private documents, court files, and dozens of interviews with people who worked with the singer — is as off-the-wall as he was. Barrack recalls being charmed by the self-proclaimed King of Pop when he first met him last year but deeply skeptical about doing business with him.

“Everybody said two things about him,” Barrack says. “Firstly, if Michael Jackson came back it would be the greatest thing in music history. And secondly, it would never happen.” Improbably, both have come true.

A brief recounting of tragic and familiar facts: Jackson died suddenly in Los Angeles at age 50 amid final rehearsals for what was expected to be a 50-date gig at London’s O2 arena. The cause was a combination of prescription drugs, including a surgical anesthetic, propofol, that Jackson was reportedly being given to treat insomnia. The death is being treated as a homicide, and an investigation continues.

As demand for the London shows demonstrated — all 800,000 tickets sold out within five hours — Jackson, despite his tabloid travails, was still a megastar. From child stardom with his brothers in the group the Jackson 5, the Gary, Ind., native skyrocketed as a solo act in the 1980s. His album “Thriller” has sold more than 70 million copies, and he is the biggest-selling recording artist of all time.

Between “Thriller,” its very successful follow-up, “Bad,” and a 120-date stadium tour and sponsorship deals, Jackson earned as much as $350 million, estimates his manager during that period, Frank DiLeo. Paul McCartney, with whom Jackson recorded the single “Say Say Say,” turned him on to the idea of buying music publishing rights, reportedly saying, “This is the way to make big money.”

Jackson began buying some publishing catalogues with his earnings, including those of Sly and the Family Stone. But McCartney ended up miffed when, in 1985, Jackson — with the help of his then-lawyer, John Branca — paid $47.5 million for ATV Music Publishing, a catalogue that included more than 250 Beatles songs. (It was around this time that Jackson also bought Neverland, for $17 million in cash, after visiting McCartney, who happened to be renting it during a video shoot for “Say Say Say.”)

Separately, Jackson set up a company called MiJac to hold the publishing rights for what would eventually be eight studio albums of his own music, plus the other catalogues he owned pre-ATV.

In the 1990s, Jackson’s ambitions grew ever larger, but his meteor started to sputter. He faced accusations of child molestation and settled a civil suit for $15 million. He burned through piles of money on movies and other ventures that didn’t pan out. In 1995 he merged ATV with a publishing business owned by his recording label, Sony (SNE), in a deal that valued ATV at far more than what Jackson had paid — $115 million plus half the combined company.

Jackson wanted to transcend being a music performer by making films and theme park attractions and videogames. His short video, “Captain EO,” directed by Francis Ford Coppola, was shown in 3-D at Disney theme parks. But the only feature movie project he ever completed, called “Moonwalker,” failed to find a U.S. distributor when it was released.

By the late 1990s, according to court filings, Jackson had borrowed $90 million from NationsBank, collateralized by his half-interest in what was now called Sony/ ATV. Myung-Ho Lee, a Korean businessman who for a time was Jackson’s business manager, claimed in a lawsuit that he lined up “desperately needed financing” from Bank of America (BAC, Fortune 500) (which had merged with NationsBank) to refinance that loan and borrow more — increasing Jackson’s debts to $220 million.

Some of that new money was pumped into dotcom ventures, including Tickets.com, a gaming company, and a fuel-cell business. In court papers Lee also claimed he was not paid for his services and accused Jackson of “bizarre and extravagant” behavior. (Jackson claimed in response that it was Lee who had defrauded him.) “Michael Jackson was — and is — a ticking financial time bomb waiting to explode at any moment,” Lee said in his complaint.

The case was settled not long after Jackson’s last studio album, “Invincible,” was released, in 2001. Compared with his past chart busters, “Invincible” had lackluster sales, and Jackson was unhappy.

Bob Daly, who ran Warner Music (WMG) for years and later the Warner Bros. studio, knew Jackson through his wife, the songwriter Carol Bayer Sager, to whom Jackson had dedicated the album. One day Jackson asked Daly, as a favor, to investigate whether Sony had cheated him in the making of the album. Daly reviewed the album’s financing and found nothing untoward.

“When I told him that, he sort of disappeared on me,” recalls Daly. “Some people don’t like hearing what they don’t want to hear.” Soon after, Jackson had a blowup with Sony during which he was photographed carrying a placard portraying Sony Music’s then chief as a devil-like figure.

Before long Jackson and Sony Music parted ways — a situation that layered tension and mistrust onto his continuing partnership in Sony/ATV, which was operated as a separate entity from the music business.

At this point Jackson had a staff (or “organization,” as he liked to say) numbering some 50 people on his payroll. Upkeep at Neverland was costing upwards of $4 million a year, and Jackson was also underwriting the staff and upkeep costs of the Encino, Calif., compound where his mother and other family members lived.

Jackson sought help from a colorful roster of managers and advisers that included a guy who Jackson didn’t realize was a gay porn producer, a Florida lawyer who once represented mobster Meyer Lansky, a prominent member of the Nation of Islam, and Michael’s own brother Randy.

Finances took a back seat as Jackson spent two years fighting new child molestation charges filed against him in 2003. During his successful defense, according to court papers, Jackson received $2 million from Sheikh Abdulla, the 33-year-old son of the ruler of Bahrain, to help foot his legal bills.

The sheikh, who had ambitions to be in the music business, had taken a shine to Jackson after being introduced by Michael’s brother Jermaine. He says in court papers that he took care of the utility bills at Neverland for a time and helped Michael arrange his first mortgage on the property. The sheikh would describe his new friend as “a person who is very switched on, a fantastic businessman and fantastic intellectual.”

Several weeks before he was acquitted, Jackson attended the funeral of lawyer Johnny Cochrane. There Jackson confessed his financial straits to Ron Burkle, the Yucaipa Cos. financier, whom Jackson had befriended.

Jackson asked Burkle if he would have an accountant look at Jackson’s troubled finances. Burkle agreed, eventually telling the singer that his spending was untenable and he either needed to cut back dramatically or go back to work.

But Jackson told him, as he did others, that under no circumstances did he want to go back to performing. At the very least, Burkle insisted that Jackson begin signing all his own checks so that he could see how much he was paying for things.

Most of Neverland’s staff was laid off, and Jackson — who said he felt violated after police raided his home — vowed never to return there. Soon after his acquittal, Jackson was living in Bahrain with his children as a guest of the sheikh.

Amid all the negative publicity swirling around Jackson, Bank of America quietly sold the loans it held on Jackson’s interest in Sony/ATV, MiJac, and Neverland at a steep discount to Fortress Investments (FIG), a big hedge fund that specialized in distressed assets.

Because of covenant breaches and penalties, the loans now carried stiff terms, with an interest rate in the mid-teens, say two people who were involved in Jackson’s finances.

Jackson’s income consisted of small dividends from Sony/ATV, $10 million or so from MiJac, plus roughly $10 million from music royalties and other sources — but that was not enough to stay ahead of his mounting interest payments and his legal and living expenses.

“He always was asset rich and cash-flow poor,” one of these people says. “The best way to think about it is a middle-income family that spends too much on their credit card and doesn’t care about the fees.”

In late 2005, Jackson received a fax from Robert Wiesenthal, the chief financial officer of Sony’s U.S. business. Wiesenthal understood that Jackson was days from defaulting on his Fortress publishing loan and offered to meet to discuss ways to help.

Besides aiding a partner, Sony was concerned that Jackson’s half of Sony/ATV could end up in bankruptcy court — or in the hands of an outsider like Burkle or Fortress. (Burkle declined to be interviewed, and Fortress did not respond to an interview request.)

Howard Stringer, Sony Corp.’s chairman, dispatched Wiesenthal to Dubai. In a gilded hotel suite, Wiesenthal met with Jackson and several of the sheikh’s advisers and explained that Sony had lined up bankers from Citi who were willing to refinance Jackson’s ATV debt on much better terms. And Sony agreed to a dividend policy from the publishing company that would help cover interest payments on the ATV loan.

In exchange, Sony received a freer hand to make investment decisions without Jackson’s approval; a right of refusal on his stake; and an option to buy half of Jackson’s half for around $250 million. To everyone else’s surprise, Fortress exercised a right it held to match any financing terms and held onto its Jackson loans, though only for a short term.

Problems solved? Of course not. In Bahrain, Abdulla had given Jackson use of a Rolls-Royce and a Maybach and bought him jewelry and watches and a gold statue. But after a few months their relationship became another tale of mutual hurt.

Jackson left Bahrain, and Abdulla sued him for reneging on an agreement to start a label and record songs together — including a Hurricane Katrina relief song they’d spent weeks preparing. Jackson claimed that he either did not know what he was signing or was misled. The case went to trial in London but was settled just before Jackson was to testify.

Jackson moved mostly around Europe with his children, at one point in 2006 living in Ireland and contemplating settling there. According to Raymone Bain, Jackson’s spokeswoman and general manager at the time, although Jackson was focusing on raising his children, he was also determined to revive his career.

Jackson told Bain, a crisis specialist who had been spokeswoman for incarcerated D.C. mayor Marion Barry, that two constant subjects of media inquiry were off-limits: his children and his finances. “My finances are my business,” he said. “Let them think I’m broke.”

Jackson invited Bob Sillerman, the Wall Street entrepreneur who had acquired Elvis Presley Enterprises, to visit him in Ireland to talk about ways to turn Neverland into a fan destination. And although he had been hands-off at Sony/ATV, he was excited about acquisitions the company was making, even calling the legendary songwriter Mike Stoller before the company acquired the catalogue owned by him and Jerry Lieber, which, to Jackson’s delight, included the Elvis hits “Hound Dog” and “Jailhouse Rock.” “He wanted to really assure Jerry and me that we would be in the best of hands,” recalls Stoller.

The Fortress loans were coming due yet again at the end of December 2007. Barclays refinanced the $300 million loan against Sony/ATV from Fortress. HSBC (HBC) lent $30 million against MiJac. Plainfield Asset Management, a hedge fund, loaned another $40 million against MiJac at a 16% interest rate on terms that allowed Jackson to defer payments while the amount due grew.

The financing was supposed to enable Jackson to settle 13 outstanding lawsuits and still have roughly $11 million on hand for creative ventures. The other loans against Sony/ATV and MiJac were both structured so that Jackson was unable to access any of the money — dividends and profits went directly toward debt payments. And additional money was raised to have “interest reserves” that would make interest payments when Jackson couldn’t. Frank DiLeo, Jackson’s manager during his heyday, still can’t believe the star let it all pile up. “I want to wake him up and slap him,” he says.

Jackson was still, according to two people who advised him, running a deficit of $10 million to $15 million a year beyond a similar amount that he would bring in from royalties and new ventures like a special 25th anniversary “Thriller” album released last year.

Not counting financing charges, last year Jackson’s personal expenses were around $8 million, says an adviser who reviewed his books — counting everything from rent and Neverland upkeep to security, child care, and tutoring Jackson was receiving for moviemaking.

Fortress had held onto the mortgage on Neverland, and in early 2008 — to the surprise of Bain and some of Jackson’s other former advisers — reports emerged that Neverland was going to be sold in a foreclosure auction, only to be “saved” for Jackson by Colony Capital.

By then Bain was out of the picture after Jackson had changed his phone numbers, which he did frequently. This time he didn’t give her the new ones. Several months before he died, Bain filed a $44 million lawsuit against Jackson for, you guessed it, unpaid services.

“This is the saddest story in history,” says Tohme Tohme, the man who succeeded Bain. “I had no purpose except to help him, to bring Michael Jackson back and make him the King of Pop. One consolation for me: I did it. He died the King.”

In the days following Jackson’s death, Tohme was portrayed in media reports as a mysterious if not sinister figure — a portrait he feels besmirched him. A longtime Los Angeleno of Lebanese heritage and habitué of the Bel Air Hotel, Tohme comes from outside the entertainment business but declines to say what businesses he is in.

“If you are writing about Linda Lovelace, you don’t need to know about John Holmes,” he laughs, making an unexpected reference to 1970s porn stars.

Say what you will, Tohme was able to get Jackson working again. Tohme says that he has known the Jackson family for years, and that Jermaine asked Tohme to help his brother out in early 2008 when Neverland faced foreclosure.

Tohme had done some work with Colony Capital, which has done $39 billion worth of transactions since 1991 and owns 9% of French retailer Carrefour. Tohme persuaded Colony’s Barrack to meet with Michael in Las Vegas at the rented stucco compound where the King of Pop and his kids were living. Colony owns the Vegas Hilton, and Barrack had played a role in resuscitating the career of Barry Manilow via a five-year run of shows there.

Barrack also has a ranch near Neverland, and he expressed interest in both Neverland and some kind of permanent Vegas show based on Jackson’s music. He in turn spoke to Phil Anschutz, the owner of AEG (it stands for Anschutz Entertainment Group), which led to a meeting between Anschutz and Jackson at the MGM Grand late last year. Jackson was “very laser focused,” says AEG Live’s Phillips, who also attended. “He wanted to meet the guy who owned the company.”

AEG and Tohme subsequently hashed out Jackson’s deal for what eventually became 50 shows. Among its terms: Jackson would get 90% of all profits, and AEG would advance some $15 million toward the purchase of a palatial house that had been built by Prince Jefri of Brunei in Las Vegas, which had been listed for more than $100 million and which Jackson envisioned as his new Neverland.

But first AEG had to pay $5 million to Sheikh Abdulla to finally settle his dispute with Jackson (a figure that hasn’t previously been disclosed). Tohme worked on other deals on Jackson’s behalf, including one for a “Thriller”-based show on Broadway, TV specials, a film, and even a casino.

But several weeks before his death, there was fresh unrest in Jackson’s world. Tohme was on the outs after Jackson was upset by the way he managed an auction of truckloads of his eclectic personal possessions this past April.

Jackson was apparently horrified to see the catalogue on the Internet, and the auction ended up being stopped after Jackson sued. (Tohme denies ever receiving a letter from Jackson dismissing him and says he hasn’t been paid for the work he did for the singer.)

Around that time, Jackson brought back his old manager DiLeo, who in turn helped bring back John Branca, who had been Jackson’s lawyer for the better part of three decades and helped him buy ATV, but with whom the singer had a sometimes strained relationship. Branca, who declined to be interviewed, has said that he last stopped working for Jackson in 2006 because he didn’t like the people Jackson was surrounding himself with.

Some in the Jackson orbit, including his father, Joe (with whom Michael had long-standing and very public differences), have contended that Michael was manipulated by people without his son’s best interests in mind and hint at nefarious forces behind his demise.

Both the rented $100,000-a-month Bel Air mansion where Jackson fell ill and a doctor who lived with him — who was to be paid $150,000 a month — were being funded by AEG. Phillips, the president of AEG Live, says he objected to having the doctor, but Michael Jackson insisted, saying that his body was their venture’s most important asset.

“It’s easy to make us look like the corporate villains who took advantage of Michael Jackson,” Phillips told me one day in his office near Los Angeles’ Staples Center, which AEG owns and where Jackson held those final rehearsals. “It’s quite the opposite — we were the people who empowered Michael Jackson and gave him his dream back.”

AEG, despite having invested close to $30 million in Jackson’s unrealized dream, will make money on its involvement with the estate, thanks largely to the rehearsal footage that was shot and the swiftness with which AEG and Jackson’s executors formulated a plan to salvage a calamitous situation.

Sony paid what one company insider called an unprecedented $60 million to Jackson and AEG for the rights to release “This Is It” — a price justified in part by the fact that the film deal precluded, for now, a televised tribute concert recreating Jackson’s fateful stage show, which AEG has explored.

The movie is slated for a limited, two-week run. But where his estate is concerned, the Michael Jackson show is only just underway.

New creditor claims are being filed on a weekly basis, and yet to be resolved is whether Jackson’s family can get along with the executors who were named in Jackson’s 2002 will: Branca and music industry veteran John McClain.

Katherine Jackson’s attorneys have accused the executors of conflicts of interest (their precise objections are sealed from public view) while criticizing aspects of the deals they struck with Sony and AEG.

The probate judge, Mitchell Beckloff, recently took the unusual step of granting Katherine the ability to challenge the executors without jeopardizing her inheritance, and both sides’ lawyers have been trying to work out a compromise that would avoid a trial.

Estate lawyers know that high-profile celebrity cases can drag on for years, the most extreme example being Marilyn Monroe’s probate, which lasted more than three decades.

Jackson’s cultural resurgence will certainly continue to brighten the estate’s financial situation, but more challenges are on the horizon. Next year, insiders say, the estate’s groaning debts will need to be refinanced yet again.

Down the road, MiJac may be merged into Sony/ATV, which has thrived over the past couple of years. Or the estate may eventually decide that it wants to sell Jackson’s musical jewels to the highest bidder to finally settle all the singer’s debts and lawsuits. One day, in Las Vegas or elsewhere, fans may visit a new Neverland.

Creatively, Jackson’s legacy in the pantheon of musical superstars is already secure. But when it comes to the big financial questions, it’s a good bet that Jackson’s executors will not be asking themselves, “What would Michael do?”

Reporter associates Marilyn Adamo and Kim Thai

First Published: October 23, 2009: 4:26 AM ET

source: http://money.cnn.com/2009/10/23/news/companies/michael_jackson_money_assets.fortune/index.htm

The other day while searching around online for photographs to include with this Neverland entry, I stumbled upon some GORGEOUS night photos of Neverland on Flickr. I had never seen photos of the place quite like those… hauntingly beautiful… and sad. The Flickr set was linked to an entry written by Jonathan Haeber that I’m going to use as today’s entry. After you read this entry, please click to his original to view additional photos that I didn’t include here.

Saying Goodbye to Neverland and Michael Jackson
by Jonathan Haeber

I wanted to make this post, not simply to jump on the bandwagon of the media outpouring for Michael Jackson. I’m not here to judge his life or talk about his finances, or his troubled past, or the allegations, or even Bubbles. I’m writing this simply to tell a story. It’s a story that I didn’t really have the inclination to say before. Now that Michael’s “Ranch” no longer exists, and — rides dismantled — it simply stands as a bank-owned shadow of its former self, I wanted say a few things about my experience at Neverland, and the truth behind how I was able to get in.

In many ways, I feel this is sort of a confession. I never saw Neverland as an interesting place. At first, I didn’t understood its potential to tell a photographic story. As someone who finds significance in historic architecture, I neither saw Neverland as significant, nor historic. All of that changed.

In December of 2007, I was on my way down to Ventura for the Holidays. I had taken multiple trips down the 101 before. Each trip, I made it a point to stop at a roadside abandonment to photograph at night. As it invariably is every December, just prior to Christmas, the radios are filled with the repetitious yuletide jingles of yore. Usually, the six-hour drive is bearable if I switch from one station to the next – between commercials. This particular drive down, I grew weary of the music. I’m not exactly sure why Michael came to mind. Part of it probably had to do with the silence and the habit of mine to imagine music in my head in such moments. It’s also possible that I passed the off-ramp for Los Olivos and thought of the place, only to think of it more and more. Whatever it was, the idea of then-abandoned Neverland began to roll around in my mind. The radio was off, and I began mentally turning over rocks in the process. What did Neverland mean about Michael? Then the big one loomed: Why couldn’t Neverland be “historic” in my mind?

I must admit, I suffer from the myopic view, like most historians — amateur or otherwise — that history must always be equated with old. That’s why Graceland was “history” to me, but Neverland never would be — at least not until it was gone. Hours passed, and the desire to see the inside of Neverland grew stronger. I had essentially exhausted all other photographic possibilities down the 101, and I knew this opportunity wouldn’t last long. Then, a day before I began the drive back up to San Francisco, I exited a theater to find what seemed like snow falling on me. I immediately realized they were large flakes of ash from a fire nearby. The sky was dark and orange. It was an eerie, foreboding signal, or at least that’s what I made it out to be. I needed to photograph Neverland, or else — and I had a strong feeling — it would all go to ashes without proper documentation.

Once it was decided, there was no convincing me otherwise. Still, I thought more than once of giving it up altogether and to continue driving North. I tried to convince myself that I had trespassed many times before at other locations — but the implications had never really bothered me until I considered walking into Michael’s private park. As I write this, I still try to justify my actions by thinking how much Michael truly wanted to share his world. It was a genuine wish of his for everyone to understand things the way he did. And the world largely didn’t understand what he was trying to communicate with Neverland, so he abandoned it.

People have asked me over the past year what it felt like to be in Neverland at night, alone. I didn’t want to say anything except that it was the most surreal and incredible experience of my life. Others asked me how I felt about Michael, after seeing Neverland, but I couldn’t completely answer that. I was withholding judgement. Maybe, like all battle-bruised humans, I had the sneaking suspicion that all of my best feelings about the man would be shattered when another allegation would arise. But it never happened, just as I suspected, because everything I saw at the Ranch indicated to me that he was an innocent man.

The night I drove up to the front gates, the security guard was there, sitting in a well-lit pillbox on the side of the road. Neverland itself is up the road about 400 yards from the front gate. It happened to be a dark night. In fact, there was a new moon, and the sky was clear of any clouds. Out in Los Olivos, the stars shone brightly, and there was little light pollution in the atmosphere. I was sure to maintain my speed as I passed the guard, and I drove up the road to small parking area east of the park. The walk to Neverland was about a half-mile through rolling hills in pitch black conditions. I carried a GPS, set to its dimmest level, and continued on a straight click, towards the North end of the park.

I came upon a back road that seemed to have been a utility road for the animal caretakers. By then, all of the animals were gone, save a few dogs in the old aviary. Bursting out from the branches of valley oak, I found myself in a miniature city. I had emerged right at the petting zoo. From there, my adventure began.

Strangely enough, the moment I entered, a howling wind spread across the valley. Trees cracked their massive arms and fell; I could hear the Ferris Wheel creaking; the rope drawbridge waved wild and unpredictable. When I walked up to the deserted bumper car tent, the wind had become so strong, that it was tearing the red, canvas roof. It’s fortunate that the wind also allowed me to roam freely around the park without a single bark from the nearby dogs.

In the midst of all of this wind, the only static elements of Neverland were the frozen, bronze faces of the myriad statues that dotted the grounds. The children’s smiles almost seemed sad, in the context; and other than the occasional jolt of fear that hit me when I encountered a new frozen figure (thinking it was a real person), these statues were the subjects that I found my camera most drawn to. The rides themselves could have been found on any county fair in any state in the country. But it was the psyche of Michael Jackson that drew my curiosity. The statues were a conduit; they were my artifacts to catalog before the time of their eventual liquidation arrived.

I took two more trips to Neverland, each time with close friends. In all, I captured hundreds of photographs of the park. Many of these photographs, I will never publish. Each trip became progressively more bittersweet. I don’t really have any regrets about doing what I did, but if there is one thing I wish I had done at Neverland, it would have been to ride down the Super Slide; I think MJ would have liked that, and I’m sure the friends with me on my final trip would have turned it into a photo shoot.

Despite how kitschy it all seemed; despite the controversy; and the fact that I could only see Neverland from one perspective (that of night), the times I spent at Neverland are among the most memorable moments of my life. Neverland allowed me to escape the cynical, xenophobic world of a country mired in war, terrorism, and daily reports of suicide bombers. They may have been only a few nights of escapism, at best, but they allowed me to put myself in the shoes of Michael — moon walking my own way among the soon-to-end dreamscape of a truly magnanimous soul. May you rest in peace, Michael; your dream will live on.

The above are clickable thumbnails of some of my favorite photos from his set, however he has MANY more beautiful photos on the original entry, so please click here to view them!

As a new print of the film generally regarded as the greatest ever made is released, here’s my guide to the Orson Welles masterwork.

A-Z of Citizen Kane

A is for the American Film Institute which, in 2007, voted Citizen Kane the Greatest Movie of All Time – as it had also done in 1998.

B is for Boy Wonder, the nickname given to stage and radio star Orson Welles even before he made Citizen Kane (1941).

C is for ceilings. One of the innovations of Citizen Kane was the way in which the domineering title character was always shot from below, so that his power was always underlined (weaker characters were shot from above) – the result was that the ceilings of rooms were seen for the first time in the movies; in fact this was the first time the sets had had to have ceilings..

D is for debuts. Citizen Kane would have been a phenomenal achievement no matter who had made it but the fact that it was Welles’s debut as a movie director (and actor and producer) is astounding. He had to learn even the basics of filmmaking while he preparing Kane. Despite this – or perhaps because of his lack of technical experience and willingness to experiment – Welles subverted the rules of filmmaking and created a new vocabulary in the language of cinema.

E is for the end. Citizen Kane opens with the end of Kane’s story – his death – and then goes back to his humble beginnings.

F is for flashbacks. The story of Kane’s life is told through a series of flashbacks triggered by a newspaper reporter’s interviews with the tycoon’s former colleagues, ex-wife and friends.

G is for Gregg Toland, the cinematographer hired by Welles because of his flamboyance and unconventional style. One of Kane’s many innovations was “depth of field”, the method Toland devised of composing shots so that the screen was loaded with information and the figures and objects at the front of the screen were in focus at the same time as those at the back.

H is for Hearst, William Randolph – the American press baron who inspired the character and story of Citizen Kane. The film was essentially a thinly veiled biopic, which showed how power corrupted and how great egos are born – and grow out of control. Before the film was released, Hearst offered RKO Studios $800,000 (the cost of the film) to destroy the negative.

I is for innovation. Citizen Kane is packed full of new techniques, from the pioneering use of overlapping dialogue (which Welles brought from radio) to the ahead-of-its-time make-up which allowed the young star to convincingly age by 50 years during the course of the film.

J is for Judy Holliday. The scenes in which Susan Alexander is being bullied by Kane into being an opera singer are similar to those in the 1950 movie Born Yesterday, in which a gangster tries to turn his moll into a refined lady. By coincidence, Judy Holliday, that movie’s Oscar-winning star, was tested for the part of Susan in Citizen Kane.

K is for “King” Cole. The great pianist (and singer) Nat “King” Cole can be heard playing in the scene at the El Rancho nightclub where Susan is working.

L is for legacy. Citizen Kane stands as an astonishingly fresh piece of work nearly 70 years after it was made, and it has inspired countless filmmakers, among them Martin Scorsese, Woody Allen, Brian De Palma and Steven Spielberg who pays homage to it in Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981).

M is for Mercury Theatre, the stage company that Welles founded with John Houseman in New York in 1937. Known for its bold, original productions, Mercury Theatre branched out into radio drama – most famously its vivid 1938 dramatisation of HG Wells’s The War of the Worlds, which, although broadcast as a Hallowe’en prank, caused a nationwide panic as thousands of Americans believed they were listening to news coverage of a real-life alien invasion.

N is for Neverland. Michael Jackson’s vast estate – a sort of mini-kingdom – is the closest modern-day equivalent to Kane’s Xanadu, where he stored and showed off “the loot of the world” – the art work, architecture and animals he collected from across the globe. The gothic Xanadu was inspired by Hearst’s gargantuan castle San Simeon which was stuffed with antiques and art and had its own zoo.

O is for Only One Oscar. Yup, The Greatest Film of All Time won only one Academy Award – for the screenplay written by Welles and Herman J Mankiewicz. In 2003, Welles’s statuette was about to be sold in an auction at Christie’s in New York (by Welles’s youngest daughter) but was voluntarily withdrawn so that the Academy could buy it back for $1, a deal which all Oscar winners have to agree to. It had been expected to fetch over $300,000.

P is for Parsons. Louella O Parsons was the Hearst newspaper group’s Hollywood gossip columnist who could make or break careers. When she heard that Welles’s film was really about her boss, she demanded to be shown it – and blew a gasket. It was her report to Hearst which triggered his pre-emptive strike of banning advertisements for the film from his papers, a move which led some cinema chains to cancel their bookings.

Q is for the QT. Several key scenes in Citizen Kane were filmed on the quiet, behind closed doors, so that studio executives couldn’t interfere with the production. The projection room scene, plus the interviews, were passed off as tests but Welles fully intended to use them in the movie – and he did.

R is for “rosebud”, the last word uttered by Kane as he dies in the opening scenes of the film. It is the quest to discover what “rosebud” was that drives the whole film as a reporter is assigned the job of getting to the bottom of the mystery by interviewing as many of Kane’s friends and associates as necessary.

S is for score. Bernard Herrmann’s evocative score – his first feature film score – contributed much to the sinister atmosphere of the film. He went on to compose the music for such diverse classics as The Ghost and Mrs Muir (1947) and Taxi Driver (1976).

T is for twenty-four, the age Welles was when he was making “the greatest film ever made”.

U is for unorthodox. A particularly unusual technique was devised by editor Robert Wise (later the director of The Sound of Music) to make the newsreel footage at the start of the film look authentic and grainy: he ran the film through cheesecloth filled with sand.

V is for vendetta. Hearst’s papers conducted a smear campaign against Welles in revenge for Citizen Kane; one rumour which circulated was that Welles was a communist.

W is for “will-they-won’t-they?”. The release of the film very nearly didn’t happen as RKO’s board buckled under pressure not just from Hearst but also from other studio heads, who felt the controversy would damage the industry. Finally, three months after its original scheduled release date, it opened in New York – the result of Welles pointing out to the studio that his contract gave him the right to sue if the film wasn’t shown within a certain period of time.

X is for x-tras. These included Alan Ladd (who would become a leading man the following year) as the pipe-smoking reporter at the end of the film.

Y is for years. The story of Citizen Kane spans an epic 65 years, from his childhood when he was sent to live in the care of the family lawyer, to his death as an isolated old man. For 50 of those years, Kane was played by Orson Welles.

Z is for the Ziegfeld Follies, the show in which William Randolph Hearst’s much-younger mistress, Marion Davies, was appearing when they first met. Hearst’s relationship with Davies differed from that of Kane and Susan Alexander in the movie in a few ways: although Hearst undoubtedly got Davies into movies, she was actually an accomplished comedienne, whereas her fictional alter ego was a pretty lousy opera singer. And while Susan marries and divorces Kane, Davies, whose movie career made her independently wealthy, remained devoted to her man (though they never married) until his death.
* A new print of Citizen Kane is showing at the GFT, Glasgow from October 30 until Thursday 5, and at the Filmhouse, Edinburgh from October 30 until Sunday 8.

The quixotic charm of The James Warner Prophecies is that their music contains a myriad of styles, oeuvres and impressions – much like J-Rock -  but theirs is less disposable pop in style and more harmonic indie in ambition. Thus we get thick slices of American Punk (i.e. think ‘Bad Religion’) laced generously with Brit indie folk sound reminiscent of ‘The Magic Numbers’.

So with The James Warner Prophecies you get melodic singing together with hardcore drum beats and haunting flute.  Yeah, I know it shouldn’t work. But it does.  Just.  Sometimes you feel poised on the edge of something a little too grand and opulent to be really honest …  but then the twinkle-in-the-eye  gentle humour of the band shines through,  and the result is an agreeable love fest of sound and virtue.

Benign Rasputin-like figure Joe Brown is the mighty front-man power-house lead singer/guitar of the band. Striding about the stage looking like a kindly ginger version of Edward Teach (the notorious pirate) – with an enormous burning red beard and a savage glint in his cruel eye. Instead of cutlass and sword, though, we get electric mandolin & guitar – but the results are similarly battle hardened with an abundance of inventive fireworks from the fret-boards and vindictive encounters with the spiteful strings of the mandolin.

Bringing some calm and beauty to the proceedings, Kate Rounding plays a mournful flute on many songs, plus the haunting chords on Korg. I understand Kate also adds violin to the mix – but we didn’t see her fiddle at The Hob. Lanky long-haired hippy Matt Anthony adds some low inventive and, ultimately, reassuring bass to the songs and the ‘Noel Fielding’ look-alike Dan Williams in assured and competent on drums.

The band moved ruthlessly from song-to-song keeping up the pressure and starting with an appropriately named tune ‘Braincell Piracy’ before launching into ‘King of The Killers’, then onto ‘Judas Stone’ and ‘The Itch’. The big end to the show was their ‘Set The World on Fire’ track (the unimaginatively named) ‘Mandolin Song’. This song has some fierce fretting from Joe (on mandolin) with audacious flares of light and fire from Kate and plenty of pounding crashing percussion from Dan and Matt. A truly exciting and heart pummelling joy of a song.

From my own point of view, I would prefer something a bit more languid and soulfully helpful from Kate (at times it seemed like her contributions were repetitive and almost go through-the-motions routine in content) and I would also like a little less sympathy from the band for the folk-country traditions of their home county (Derbyshire) and a little more hard driving rock from the ensemble … but that is just my personal taste.

Overall, though, the band makes a positive contribution to the Rock / Folk Rock scene. The band members are a jolly hardworking crew with a capable and naturally talented energy. I Strongly recommend that you see their live show soon.

© Neil_Mach
October 2009

Link:

http://www.myspace.com/thejameswarnerprophecies

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Yesterday, I posted a fan named Talia’s personal account of visiting Neverland. After publishing the post, she provided me with a few more details and memories of her experience, so I decided to make her Neverland experience a two part entry continued today!

Before reading any further, click here to read part one.

“That was such a whirlwind day.. It’s crazy reliving it through this post (this is the first time I’ve even dared look at this stuff since he passed, since it’s been way too emotional for me). We were just going to support him outside the courthouse and there were some rumors that something was happening at Neverland but we really had no idea. The fans seriously came to this rally from all over the world and we never expected that Michael would actually coordinate something so elaborate and magical as a “thank you.” Seriously, out of nowhere these guys were passing out these invitations in the middle of the street and Neverland was 100% open to the fans that day. When we got there it was like a legit catered event with gourmet food and banquet tables, meaning Michael actually spent time and a lot of money on this gesture. It showed so much about his personality.. how truly selfless and giving he was because Michael wasn’t even there at Neverland and so he literally had nothing to gain from letting hundreds of people onto his property.. didn’t even get to hear all of our thank you’s (other than this video that was recorded where we got to scream into the camera about how much we love him etc) and the media wasn’t let in so it obviously wasn’t a PR move or anything. It was just an extraordinarily kind act to show us how much he truly appreciates the fans. BRB, getting emotional again!!”

“What’s so crazy is that Michael trusted the fans so much that literally nothing was off-limits. I’m sure there were security cameras but there was no one telling us where we could and couldn’t go, what we could and couldn’t touch, etc. We were literally all little kids that day (including quite a few middle aged people), running around the amusement park and the zoo, etc. Some people were bold enough to wander into his actual house (I was way too scared.. I just creeped around the permiter hahah) but they probably were eventually shooed away from there!! Seriously though, who has that amount of trust and love for his fans?! Sigh, what an amazing man.”

photo by Jonathan Haeber

“In my entry I referenced the private rooms in the back of the movie theatre. They’re all facing the screen (with a wall of glass to make sure the viewer still has a great view) and they have speakers in there. When I went there/wrote this entry I just thought, “oh my GOD this is the most luxurious thing ever.. beds in a movie theatre, what!!) and I didn’t realize until after that the rooms exist for visitors who are sick and must be bedridden. It says so much that Michael would make sure they get the best treatment of all. “

“Also, some of my favorite parts of Neverland that I’ve never heard reports about are the basketball court and the bus stops. Literally there are random “bus stops” throughout Neverland where there’s a bench and poster advertising an upcoming movie (the movies advertised actually not having been released yet). Also, there was this basketball court that was just like a neighborhood outdoor court.. nothing fancy. I loved that touch so much because it was completely unpretentious and kind of exciting to imagine Michael and his friends just playing ball like anyone else. There were also beautiful sculptures throughout the property, as well as cute Disney-like displays (like a sculpture of porcelain storybook opened up to some kind of inspiring poem or short story). He really thought of every little touch to make Neverland a kind of grounded and cozy magical kingdom.. kind of like Disneyland but actually homey and in no way artificial.. like a legitimate little alternate universe.”

“Oh, and there are even streets, like the train station is on “Katherine St.” which I loved!”

photo by Jonathan Haeber

“It’s so sad to me that it used to be this inspiring place where everyone was a child again and also, where disabled and disadvantaged kids could have the time of their life.. and then it was made out to be some sinister place to lure in victims.”

“It’s such a shame what happened to Neverland. It was twisted by the media into being some sinister place but Michael was SO giving, regularly having busloads of disadvantaged and disabled kids spend a day there when he wasn’t even home. He cared so much about giving people just once place where they could be free and not have to worry about being judged or about any of their personal problems.

It would be great if Neverland could be restored, as long as it’s done right and Michael is truly honored there. It really would show the world how amazing and pure he was. “

David Nordahl
Moonrise
1995