The Michael Jackson Tapes (13 page)

Shmuley Boteach: Let me just share one thought. You said your father would humiliate you when you were in concert and he would make you cry and push you out on stage in front of all the girls who loved you. . . to do what? To show his power over you?

Michael Jackson: Well, um, no. He wouldn't do it on the stage. Like, after a show, there'd be the room full of girls. He would love to bring the girls in the room, my father. And after the show we'd have something to eat, or whatever, and the room would be just lined with girls giggling, just loving us, like “oh my god!” and shaking. And if I was talking and something happened and he didn't like it, he'd get this look in his eye like. . . he'd get this look in his eye that would just scare you to death. He slapped me so hard in the face, as hard as he could, and then he'd thrust me out into the big room, where they are, tears running down my face, and what are you supposed to do, you know?

SB: And how old were you now? [Prince in the background, “We're three!”. . . laughing]

MJ: Uh, no more than like, twelve. . . eleven, something around there.

SB: So these were the first moments that you felt shame in your life? Really humiliated?

MJ: No, there were other ones. He did some rough, cruel. . . cruel. . . I don't know why. He was rough. The way he would beat you was hard, you know? He would make you strip nude first. He would oil you down. It would be a whole ritual. He would oil you down so when the tip of the ironing cord hit you [makes noise mimicking], you know . . . and it would just be like dying and you had whips all over your face, your back, everywhere. And I always heard my mother like, “No, Joe! You're gonna kill 'em. You're gonna kill 'em, no!” And I would just give up, like there was nothing I could do. And I hated him for it, hated him. We all did. We used to say to our mother, we used to say to each other, and I'll never forget this. Janet and myself, we used to say. . . I used to say, “Janet, shut your eyes.” She'd go, “Okay, they're shut.” And I'd say, “Picture Joseph in a coffin. He's dead. Did you feel sorry?” She'd go, “No.” Just like that. That's what we used to do to each other as kids. We would like play games like that. And that's how hateful we were. I'd go, “He's in the coffin, he's dead. Would you feel sorry?” She'd go, “Nope,” just like that. That's how angry we were with him. And I love him today, but he was hard, Shmuley. He was rough.

SB: But did you know that that was part of being corrupted as a child when you start feeling that way—hatred? Did you know, “I gotta get rid of this somehow. I gotta do something about this”?

MJ: Yeah, I wanted to become such a wonderful performer that I would get love back.

SB: So you could change him, you thought. If you. . . so you thought that if you became a great star, very successful, and were loved by the world, and were very successful, your father would love you too.

MJ: Aha.

SB: So you could change him that way.

MJ: Aha. I was hoping I could and I was hoping I could get love from other people, 'cause I needed it real bad, you know? You need love, you need love. That's the most important thing. That's why I feel so
bad for those kids who sit in those orphanages and hospitals and they're all alone and they tie them to the beds—they tie them because they don't have enough staff. I go, “Are you crazy?” And I go to each bed just freeing them, releasing them. I say, “This isn't a way to do children. You don't tie them down.” Or they have them chained to the walls in some places, like in Romania. And they have them sleep in their own feces and their tinkle.

SB: Do you identify more with people like that 'cause you're also that sensitive?

MJ: Yeah, I always hold Mushki [my eldest daughter who was about 12 at the time] the most 'cause I feel her pain. She's in so much pain. When Janet went through her fat stage she cried a lot, my sister Janet. She decided to just lose it all, “I'm gonna lose this,” and she did it. She used to be very unhappy.

SB: Are you very protective of her as a younger sister?

MJ: Yeah, I was determined to make her lose weight. I was bad. I would tease her to make her lose it. I didn't like it on her. I didn't like it because I knew she would have a hard time.

SB: How did you get her to do something about it?

MJ: I said you have to lose weight 'cause you look like a fat cow. I would tell her and that was mean of me to say that. She would say, “Shut up,” and I'd say “You shut up.” But I was determined to make my sister look good because deep in my heart I love her and I want to make her shine and when she became a star on, you know. . . records, I was so happy and proud because, you know, she did it.

SB: Are you still protective of her as a younger sister?

MJ: Yes, yes. . . . I just wish that we were closer. We're close in spirit but not as family. Because we don't celebrate, we have no reason to come together now. I wish that was instilled in us. I love what I saw you guys do, that blessing thing that touches my heart a lot. I see why you're so close to them, it's sweet.

Shmuley Boteach: Has God always answered your prayers? Michael Jackson: Usually. Absolutely. That's why I believe in it.

SB: Do you feel that he has been with you through some of the difficult things in life?

MJ: There hasn't been one thing that I have asked for that I didn't get. It is not materialistic. I am going to say something I have never said before and this is the truth. I have no reason to lie to you and God knows I am telling the truth. I think all my success and fame, and I have wanted it, I have wanted it because I wanted to be loved. That's all. That's the real truth. I wanted people to love me, truly love me, because I never really felt loved. I said I know I have an ability. Maybe if I sharpened my craft, maybe people will love me more. I just wanted to be loved because I think it is very important to be loved and to tell people that you love them and to look in their eyes and say it.

SB: But the flip side of that, Michael, is that if you were given a huge amount of love as a child, then you might not have worked as hard to be successful.

MJ: That's true. That's why I wouldn't want to change anything because it has all worked out in its many different ways.

SB: So you were able to turn the neglect into a blessing?

MJ: Yeah.

SB: I remember a quote from Paul McCartney, who was asked about you when you became a big star. Someone said, “Michael Jackson, is he going to be like these other rock stars—God forbid, dead at thirty and drugs?” And McCartney said, “No. Michael, his whole character is different. He doesn't swear, he doesn't drink.” He said this about fifteen years ago. Did you know that about yourself, that you had a character that, if it continued like that, wasn't going to be destroyed by fame and success?

MJ: Yeah. I have always been kinda determined. I have always had a vision of things I have wanted to do and goals I have wanted to reach and nothing could stop me getting that. I am focused and I know what I want and what I want to achieve and I won't get side-tracked. And even though I get down sometimes, I keep running the race of endurance to achieve those goals. It keeps me on track. I am dedicated.

SB: If you are completely happy with who you are, what about. . . you said you wouldn't have done anything differently because you know that whatever experiences you had in your childhood led to who you are today, your success. So you wouldn't do anything differently?

MJ: No. I am so sensitive to other kids because of my past and I am so happy about that.

Michael Jackson: It left a terrible scar on me.

Shmuley Boteach: What?

MJ: Turbulence and being up there and thinking you are not going to live.

SB: Remember that story you told me about your Jewish tutor?

MJ: Rose Fine?

SB: You told me once on the phone that she used to say to you that if there was a nun on the plane that everyone was going to die.

MJ: She said, “We're okay, we're sitting on the plane and now we have so much faith. I have checked. . . there isn't a nun on the plane.” I always believe that.

SB: Do you still look out for that nun?

MJ: I think about it! I never see a nun on the plane. She [Rose Fine] helped me a lot because she held my hand and cuddled me. After the show I would run to the room. We'd read and have warm milk and I needed that so badly. She would always say to me, “The door's open,” and she would leave her door open.

SB: Is it possible if someone is not a biological parent to love a child as much as you love your own child? Do you love children as much as you love Prince and Paris?

MJ: Absolutely.

SB: I have always noticed one of the most impressive things about you is when I say something like, “Prince and Paris are beautiful,” you always say, “No. All children are beautiful.” You won't let me get away with just praising Prince and Paris.

MJ: They are to me. I see beauty in all children. . . they are all beautiful to me. It is so beautiful and I love them all—equally. I used to have arguments about it with people who didn't agree with me. They say you should love your own more.

SB: Rose Fine, although she wasn't your biological mother, was able to show you a lot of motherly affection?

MJ: And boy did I need it. I was never with my mother when I was little, very seldom, and I had a wonderful mother. I see her as an
angel, and I was always gone, always on tour doing back-to-back concerts, all over America, overseas, clubs, just always gone. That helped me a lot. We took care of her [Rose Fine] until the day she died, Janet and myself. She just died recently.

SB: Do you think she should be mentioned in the context of our children's initiative?

MJ: Please do. She needs to be remembered.

SB: How old was she?

MJ: She would never tell me her age. I think she was in her nineties.

She used to say, “When I retire from you I will tell you my age.” But when she retired she still wouldn't tell me. She was with us all the way from the very first professional tour of The Jackson 5 until I was eighteen. The first tour was after we broke big—the first hit single. She would always have the power, like some of the concerts would start late and she would always have the power to stop the show because the Board of Education would say, “You kids cannot go past your time legally.” She would always let it go on. She couldn't hurt the audience.

SB: And then she would teach you during the day?

MJ: Aha.

SB: Regular subjects? Mathematics? English? She taught all five of you together?

MJ: Yes together, three hours. She taught Janet, all of them.

SB: Tell me a bit more about her.

MJ: Yes, Rose died this year. Janet and myself, we paid for her nurse and her hospital care, and if her television broke down or the electricity, or there was anything wrong with the house, we would cover her bills. Now her husband is sick so I am taking care of him, and because we felt she is our mother and you take care of your mother.

SB: You really felt that?

MJ: Absolutely. She was more than a tutor and I was so angry at myself that when she died I was far, far away. I couldn't get there. I was in Switzerland and Evvy [Michael's secretary] called me on the phone and told me that she was dead. I went, “What? I am in Switzerland. I can't. . . .” It made me angry, but I did all I could.

It also hurt when I came to the door to see her and I went, “Mrs. Fine, it's Michael,” and she would go, “You're not Michael.” I would say, “It's Michael,” and she would say, “Don't say you are Michael. You are not Michael.” That kinda sets into the brain and they don't recognize you. That hurts so much. Growing old is not always pretty. It is sad.

SB: How would a child deal with something like that? You have tried to retain your youth, your playfulness, all the things that we talk about. Do you see it as a curse, growing old?

MJ: In a way, when the body starts to break down. But when old people return to childhood, I have seen them, they become very playful and childlike. I relate very well to old people because they have those qualities of a child. Whenever I go to a hospital I always find a way to sneak into another room to talk to the old people. I just did it two days ago because I was in the hospital and they were so sweet and they just welcome you like a child does. They say, “Come in,” and we talk. They are simple and sweet.

SB: So life is almost like a circle. You start as a child and then you go through this adult phase, which isn't always healthy. There are a lot of negative things about it, and you come back, in elderly age, to that innocence, you become a lot more playful. You have a lot more time the way children have. I guess that's why grandparents get along so well with their grandchildren.

MJ: Old people and children are very much alike. They are carefree and play—free and simple and sweet. It is just a spiritual feeling. I don't visit the old people's homes as much as I have the orphanages. A lot of them get Alzheimer's and they don't recognize. But I have a great relationship with older people. I love talking to older people and they can tell you stories about when they were kids and how the world was in those days and I love that. There was an old Jewish man in New York a long time ago who said to me, “Always be thankful for your talent and always give to poor people. Help other people. When I was a little boy my father said to me, ‘We are going to take these clothes and these pieces of bread and we are going to wrap them up and you run down the street and up the stairs and knock on the people's door and place it in
front of the door and run!' I said, ‘Why did you tell us to run?' He said, “Because when they open the door I don't want them to feel the shame. They have pride. That is real charity.” I have never forgotten that [story of the old man]. That's sweet, isn't it? And he did that as a little boy all the time.

SB: So have you tried to do charitable acts that no one knows about?

MJ: Yes, without waving a flag. He [the man Michael is quoting above] is saying real charity is giving from the heart without taking credit, and when he ran they didn't know who had left it. It was like God had dropped it there, you know? It was so beautiful. I never forgot that story. I was around eleven when I was told that. He was old, really sweet, a Jewish man, I remember.