Michael Meets Jordie Chandler
May 1992. Imagine Michael Jackson standing on the side of Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, his jeep steaming at the side of the road while other cars whisk by in two busy lanes in both directions. With so little knowledge about automobiles, Michael had always wondered what he would do if he was ever alone when his car broke down. He reached for his mobile phone and called 911. He was told that a disabled automobile did not qualify as an emergency situation, and that he should call Directory Assistance to locate a tow-shop. ‘But I’m Michael Jackson,’ he protested. ‘Can’t you help me?’ The answer was, ‘No.’
As he stood next to the car fretting about his next step, Michael was spotted by the wife of Mel Green, an employee of a nearby car-rental business, called Rent-A-Wreck. She telephoned her husband and said, ‘You will not believe whoI just spotted on Wilshire Boulevard kicking the tyre of his broken-down car. Michael Jackson! You should go there and see what’s up.’
Mel Green raced to the scene and, sure enough, there he was: Michael Jackson wringing his hands, pacing back and forth and kicking the tyres of his vehicle. ‘I got him,’ Mel said, calling Dave Schwartz, owner of Rent-A-Wreck.
‘What? You gotta be kidding me?’ said Dave. ‘Is it really Michael Jackson? Are you sure? Maybe he’s one of those wacky impersonators. It can’t be
the
Michael Jackson.’
‘It sure is,’ Mel said. ‘I’m bringing him in, now.’
‘Then I gotta call June,’ Dave said, now excited. Dave and his wife, June, had been having marital difficulties and, more often than not, he was not staying at their home, although they were still on friendly terms. He called June and told her to bring her son Jordie to ‘the shop’ for ‘a big surprise’.
June and Jordie arrived on the scene before Michael. When Michael finally showed, he presented quite a sight wearing a black turban with a veil over his face and dark, over-sized sunglasses. He also wore a long-sleeve black silk shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. The only parts of his body visible were his hands, which seemed pale.
Whenever June Chandler-Schwartz walked into a room, heads turned. A striking woman of Asian extraction, she wore her dark hair to her shoulders with bangs cut straight above her eye line. Her smile incandescent, her manner outgoing, she moved with elegance and grace. Michael was quickly taken by her as she excitedly introduced herself and then Jordie.
Actually, Jordie had seen Michael on several occasions over the years, the first time being at a restaurant in Los Angeles when he was about four. The young boy didn’t approach Michael, of course, but instead gawked at him while the entertainer ate his food.
That same year, 1984, was the year Michael was burned filming the Pepsi commercial. Like thousands of fans, Jordie – still just four – sent a letter and picture of himself to the Brotman Memorial Hospital where Michael was recovering. He included his telephone number in the note. Two days later, much to his parents’ excitement, Michael called Jordie to thank him for the note, and to also tell him that he thought he was ‘a beautiful young boy’.
In 1989, when Jordie was nine, Michael’s manager Frank Dileo contacted Jordie’s mother to ask if she and her family would like four tickets to see Michael in concert in Los Angeles. Of course, she accepted. They enjoyed the show but, though they attempted to do so, did not meet with Michael backstage after the concert. As the years went on, Jordie continued with his adolescent fan-worship of Michael Jackson.
In the spring of 1992, Jordie got the idea for a spoof of Kevin Costner’s film,
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
, which he called
Robin Hood: Men in Tights
. For a twelve-year-old, he was amazingly creative. Jordie and his father, Evan, wrote the script (along with Evan’s friend, J. D. Shapiro) and with the help of some of Evan’s show-business friends, father and son actually got their script produced into a major movie. Though the movie, produced by Mel Brooks, was not a commercial success, the youngster had two more ideas in mind and was working with his father on them. To young Jordie Chandler, it seemed as if almost anything was possible. Now, he was face to face with his idol, the so-called ‘King of Pop’.
Jordie was dark-haired with big, luminescent eyes. He was on the verge of manhood, but certainly not there yet. His face was lean and angular, its raw-boned sharpness softened by its olive complexion. Anyone looking at him would say, ‘That kid is going to be stunning in about ten years.’ However, standing before Michael, he was just a boy with a big smile on his face.
June wrote down a telephone number and handed it to Michael. ‘You should call Jordie sometime,’ she suggested, as if the notion of a twelve-year-old being ‘friends’ with a thirty-three-year-old pop star was the most natural thing in the world.
‘Mom!’ Jordie protested, embarrassed.
‘No, Jordie,’ she said, according to a later recollection from, Jordie. ‘You guys can be friends.’
‘For sure,’ Dave Schwartz said as he walked into the room. ‘Give him a call, Michael. He’s your biggest fan.’
‘Yeah, okay,’ Michael said as he signed the final paperwork for the rental car. He took the paper from June and stuffed it in his pocket. Michael then looked over his glasses and took in the twelve-year-old. ‘So, look, I’ll call you, Jordie,’ he said. ‘Okay?’
‘Sure,’ the youngster answered. He flashed a dazzling smile at the singer. ‘Oh, boy!’
‘Yeah,’ Michael exclaimed, seemed tickled by the youngster’s enthusiasm. ‘Oh, boy!’ he repeated.