You Are Not Alone: Michael, Through a Brother's Eyes by Jermaine Jackson

Author:Jermaine Jackson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Biographies & Memoirs, Jackson, Memoirs, Entertainers, Arts & Literature, Michael, Leaders & Notable People, ( J ), Actors & Actresses, Humor & Entertainment, Composers & Musicians, Rich & Famous
ISBN: 9781451651560
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2011-09-12T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Animal Kingdom

AROUND THE TIME MICHAEL WROTE “Earth Song” in the mid-nineties, I sat down and wrote an outline for a children’s story with him in mind. I called it The Pied Piper of Hood River, and it was set around the beautiful fields and rivers of Oregon. In this fable, a young musician lives in the wilderness, protects the forest from evil forces and talks with animals. It was partly inspired by Michael: I’d always seen him as something of a Dr. Doolittle because he had an uncanny way of communicating with animals. He was not a horse-or dog-whisperer, more an all-around animal-whisperer. “Give them love, you get love back,” he said.

It didn’t matter how wild or exotic, animals seemed to trust him. I once said that if you threw him into a cage of lions, you’d come back an hour later to find him sitting against a wall with two lazing in his lap. Several visits to L.A. Zoo confirmed his desire to be surrounded by animals and he collected his own menagerie at Hayvenhurst, starting with another snake—Muscles the boa constrictor—three cockatoos and a stunning collection of koi carp in the pond at the far end of the garden. The two of us also kept horses at the ranch of actor Richard Whitmore.

One day, Michael decided he wanted a llama. He asked me to take him to nearby Agora and we ended up at this lot packed with hay and horse trailers. From the car, we eyed four llamas out back. I parked between two trailers, unintentionally shielding my Mercedes from view. It was the only parking spot available. When we walked into the office—two kids dressed casual but smart in T-shirt and jeans—this guy, bent across a counter doing some paperwork, didn’t even look up when he said, “We’re not hiring.”

“We ain’t looking for no job,” said Michael, wearing his shades. “We’re here to buy a llama.”

The man looked up. Not a flicker of recognition on his face. It took me about two seconds to know that his musical taste ventured nowhere the Thriller album. “We don’t have any llamas,” he said. The look on his face said it all: you can’t afford it.

“You have four of them out back,” I said, trying to keep calm.

“You know how much they cost?”

Michael smiled. “We know how much they cost.”

Then came an incredible bombardment of questions, fired by the man’s prejudices and assumptions. “Can you afford a llama? What do you boys do to afford a llama? Where will you keep it? Have you thought about this?”

Ever patient, Michael explained that we had a house with grounds and were serious customers. “I know how to look after all kinds of animals,” he added.

The man begrudgingly asked to see some ID. Michael handed over a bank card. I handed over my driving license. And then night became day.

“You’re those Jackson boys?” said the man, his face lighting up. He began to back-pedal about how he had to be careful and he couldn’t sell to just anyone; you understand how it is.

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