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Ive printed this because it is interesting. Apparently Edith was co -authoring a book but she died after Jackie and her divorced . History has it that two of the wives died after they divorced their Jackson husbands.
Anyway its interesting how Enid describes Michael here.
My
moment with Michael Jackson
Enid and Jackie back then.
Ex-wife of superstar's brother brought me into family's world
By Tony Castro, Staff Writer
Posted: 06/30/2009 11:43:51 AM PDT
Updated: 06/30/2009 11:49:38 AM PDT
Almost two decades ago, an actress friend and I posed as a grieving
couple at a grave site at Forest Lawn Memorial-Park in Glendale. I was
being wooed to write an unauthorized biography about the world's most
mysterious man since Howard Hughes, and I had insisted on at least
getting a glimpse of the subject, if even from a distance, before I
signed on.
As it turned out, I would have a face-to-face encounter with Michael
Jackson himself, if only for a fleeting moment. He was among the
Jacksons getting out of a nearby limousine to attend his grandmother's
burial, and his path to her grave site took him past us. When he was
inches away, he slowed almost to a stop for a split-second and looked at
us.
My friend, a striking blonde from a popular TV show, could have that
affect on people, which is why I asked her to join me. Michael was
dressed all in black, sporting a black fedora, and his trademark black
curls dangled over his forehead. He wasn't wearing the surgical mask
that had become a part of his wardrobe, and for an instant our faces
couldn't have been more than a foot apart.
The man looked like an alien. The skin was pasty. His eyes were
lifeless. The famous nose job and jaw implant looked ruddy and rubbery.
The only sign of color was the pinkish gloss on his lips. I half
wondered if he wasn't wearing a mask. He walked on to his grandmother's
grave, and I momentarily made eye contact with the person in their
mourning party who had tipped me off that Michael would be there - the
person who wanted me to co-author the biography of Michael with her.
Enid Jackson, the estranged wife of Michael's older brother Jackie,
nodded to me, and I acknowledged her. This was how I had finally agreed
to write "Michael: From Motown to the Moon," a 100,000-word book that
was soon commissioned by William Morrow & Co. for a six-figure
advance.
The book was never published for legal reasons and Enid died in 1997.
But the book deal set off an 18-month period interview sessions with
Enid and an array of Jackson family friends, disgruntled employees,
former employees, lovers and ex-lovers. As they say, hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned, and Enid was that woman.
She had met Jackie in 1969 shortly after the Jacksons relocated to
California from Gary, Ind. Enid Spann was then a student at Beverly
Hills High School when she all but began living with Jackie at the home
on Hayvenhurst Avenue in Encino, where she was practically another of
Michael's older sisters.
Enid and Jackie married in 1974, a union that would fall apart in the
late 1980s with Enid accusing Jackie of marital infidelity.
"I guess I could put up with that," she said to me in one interview.
"But when it came to cutting me out of the money, that's where I get
nasty."
By the time she approached me about the book in 1989, Enid already had a
William Morris literary agent and a lot of potential interviews lined
up. I signed on board and into the bizarre world of celebrity
biography. I had actually met Michael in the early stages of his
superstardom. In 1983, I had attended the taping of the Motown 25th
anniversary show, and in the early hours of the following morning, after
an exhausting marathon taping, Michael and his brothers wandered to an
after-hours private party across the street from the Pasadena Civic
Auditorium. Michael had stolen the show, debuting his Moonwalk dance in
the middle of performing "Billie Jean" from the "Thriller" album. He
was ecstatic, too, thanking people who encircled their area for their
compliments in that falsetto voice that became so familiar.
His nose was noticeably thinner than from the cover photo on his
previous "Off the Wall" album, but I think none of us who were still
there - from then-Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley to Playboy publisher
Hugh Hefner - could have imagined what was to come. From the family's
Encino compound, Enid sneaked out years of home movies, videos and
photographs of the Jacksons that documented the transformation. The
Jacksons at Disneyland after-hours, the family at get-togethers, Michael
and his brothers horsing around at home. They were from the early
1970s, when Enid went to live with the Jacksons, to 1990 and showed the
pop icon from pre-teens to adulthood in his early 30s.
"It's as if Michael was black one day and white the next," Enid said.
"He had the face that God gave him and traded that in for one that his
doctors created." That was why I wanted to see Michael at that stage
when I told Enid I couldn't work on the book without seeing the
metamorphosis for myself. "I guess when you see him every day or almost
every day, it doesn't seem like he's changed that much," Enid said.
"He's Michael."
Still, what Enid provided was just too good to be true. Handwritten
notes from Princess Di to Michael on her personal stationery. Thank-you
cards from Elizabeth Taylor. Private photographs of Michael with
directors Steven Spielberg and John Landis and of Michael with one of
his plastic surgeons, Dr. Steven Hoefflin.
Then there were the few real jewels. Sources like Chico Ross, Diana
Ross' baby brother who had befriended the young Michael in 1969 when the
Jacksons moved to California. Michael stayed at Diana's house for
months, and he became the little brother Chico hadn't had.
Chico later spent much of his time at the Jackson's new house in Encino
where he occasionally jammed with the family. He later played drums
briefly with Kerry Gordy, the son of Motown founder Berry Gordy, in a
band called Kryptonite, and dabbled as a Hollywood club promoter.
Chico's recollections of Michael in his young and middle teenage years
were priceless, and his anecdotes painted a youngster who, for a short
period of life, enjoyed the closest he would ever experience to a normal
existence.
"Michael never had a real childhood," Chico said in an interview. "It
was stolen from him so that there could be the Jackson 5 and later the
Jacksons."
About this time, lawyers for the Gordys, the Rosses and the Jacksons
had started a legal war against other recent biographies about Diana and
Michael. One publisher was forced into a big settlement. Another
biographer went bankrupt.
William Morrow & Co., my publisher, simply decided it wanted no
part of it, ate the loss on my advance and never published "Michael:
From Motown to the Moon."
In December of 1997, I got a telephone call from Enid, wishing me a
happy birthday and apologizing for using me to get back in the good
graces of the Jacksons.
"I've got even more and better material for another book that I want to
give you to make it all up," she said to me. "It's a book and a film
deal. "I'll treat you to lunch at The Ivy after the holidays and tell
you all about it."
On Dec. 20, 1997, Enid died of a brain aneurysm in a movie theater
bathroom.
Anyway its interesting how Enid describes Michael here.
My
moment with Michael Jackson
Enid and Jackie back then.
Ex-wife of superstar's brother brought me into family's world
By Tony Castro, Staff Writer
Posted: 06/30/2009 11:43:51 AM PDT
Updated: 06/30/2009 11:49:38 AM PDT
Almost two decades ago, an actress friend and I posed as a grieving
couple at a grave site at Forest Lawn Memorial-Park in Glendale. I was
being wooed to write an unauthorized biography about the world's most
mysterious man since Howard Hughes, and I had insisted on at least
getting a glimpse of the subject, if even from a distance, before I
signed on.
As it turned out, I would have a face-to-face encounter with Michael
Jackson himself, if only for a fleeting moment. He was among the
Jacksons getting out of a nearby limousine to attend his grandmother's
burial, and his path to her grave site took him past us. When he was
inches away, he slowed almost to a stop for a split-second and looked at
us.
My friend, a striking blonde from a popular TV show, could have that
affect on people, which is why I asked her to join me. Michael was
dressed all in black, sporting a black fedora, and his trademark black
curls dangled over his forehead. He wasn't wearing the surgical mask
that had become a part of his wardrobe, and for an instant our faces
couldn't have been more than a foot apart.
The man looked like an alien. The skin was pasty. His eyes were
lifeless. The famous nose job and jaw implant looked ruddy and rubbery.
The only sign of color was the pinkish gloss on his lips. I half
wondered if he wasn't wearing a mask. He walked on to his grandmother's
grave, and I momentarily made eye contact with the person in their
mourning party who had tipped me off that Michael would be there - the
person who wanted me to co-author the biography of Michael with her.
Enid Jackson, the estranged wife of Michael's older brother Jackie,
nodded to me, and I acknowledged her. This was how I had finally agreed
to write "Michael: From Motown to the Moon," a 100,000-word book that
was soon commissioned by William Morrow & Co. for a six-figure
advance.
The book was never published for legal reasons and Enid died in 1997.
But the book deal set off an 18-month period interview sessions with
Enid and an array of Jackson family friends, disgruntled employees,
former employees, lovers and ex-lovers. As they say, hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned, and Enid was that woman.
She had met Jackie in 1969 shortly after the Jacksons relocated to
California from Gary, Ind. Enid Spann was then a student at Beverly
Hills High School when she all but began living with Jackie at the home
on Hayvenhurst Avenue in Encino, where she was practically another of
Michael's older sisters.
Enid and Jackie married in 1974, a union that would fall apart in the
late 1980s with Enid accusing Jackie of marital infidelity.
"I guess I could put up with that," she said to me in one interview.
"But when it came to cutting me out of the money, that's where I get
nasty."
By the time she approached me about the book in 1989, Enid already had a
William Morris literary agent and a lot of potential interviews lined
up. I signed on board and into the bizarre world of celebrity
biography. I had actually met Michael in the early stages of his
superstardom. In 1983, I had attended the taping of the Motown 25th
anniversary show, and in the early hours of the following morning, after
an exhausting marathon taping, Michael and his brothers wandered to an
after-hours private party across the street from the Pasadena Civic
Auditorium. Michael had stolen the show, debuting his Moonwalk dance in
the middle of performing "Billie Jean" from the "Thriller" album. He
was ecstatic, too, thanking people who encircled their area for their
compliments in that falsetto voice that became so familiar.
His nose was noticeably thinner than from the cover photo on his
previous "Off the Wall" album, but I think none of us who were still
there - from then-Los Angeles Mayor Tom Bradley to Playboy publisher
Hugh Hefner - could have imagined what was to come. From the family's
Encino compound, Enid sneaked out years of home movies, videos and
photographs of the Jacksons that documented the transformation. The
Jacksons at Disneyland after-hours, the family at get-togethers, Michael
and his brothers horsing around at home. They were from the early
1970s, when Enid went to live with the Jacksons, to 1990 and showed the
pop icon from pre-teens to adulthood in his early 30s.
"It's as if Michael was black one day and white the next," Enid said.
"He had the face that God gave him and traded that in for one that his
doctors created." That was why I wanted to see Michael at that stage
when I told Enid I couldn't work on the book without seeing the
metamorphosis for myself. "I guess when you see him every day or almost
every day, it doesn't seem like he's changed that much," Enid said.
"He's Michael."
Still, what Enid provided was just too good to be true. Handwritten
notes from Princess Di to Michael on her personal stationery. Thank-you
cards from Elizabeth Taylor. Private photographs of Michael with
directors Steven Spielberg and John Landis and of Michael with one of
his plastic surgeons, Dr. Steven Hoefflin.
Then there were the few real jewels. Sources like Chico Ross, Diana
Ross' baby brother who had befriended the young Michael in 1969 when the
Jacksons moved to California. Michael stayed at Diana's house for
months, and he became the little brother Chico hadn't had.
Chico later spent much of his time at the Jackson's new house in Encino
where he occasionally jammed with the family. He later played drums
briefly with Kerry Gordy, the son of Motown founder Berry Gordy, in a
band called Kryptonite, and dabbled as a Hollywood club promoter.
Chico's recollections of Michael in his young and middle teenage years
were priceless, and his anecdotes painted a youngster who, for a short
period of life, enjoyed the closest he would ever experience to a normal
existence.
"Michael never had a real childhood," Chico said in an interview. "It
was stolen from him so that there could be the Jackson 5 and later the
Jacksons."
About this time, lawyers for the Gordys, the Rosses and the Jacksons
had started a legal war against other recent biographies about Diana and
Michael. One publisher was forced into a big settlement. Another
biographer went bankrupt.
William Morrow & Co., my publisher, simply decided it wanted no
part of it, ate the loss on my advance and never published "Michael:
From Motown to the Moon."
In December of 1997, I got a telephone call from Enid, wishing me a
happy birthday and apologizing for using me to get back in the good
graces of the Jacksons.
"I've got even more and better material for another book that I want to
give you to make it all up," she said to me. "It's a book and a film
deal. "I'll treat you to lunch at The Ivy after the holidays and tell
you all about it."
On Dec. 20, 1997, Enid died of a brain aneurysm in a movie theater
bathroom.