My strongest memory from the night was when one of the Jackson brothers ripped off Michael’s white t-shirt with fringe at the bottom (this was 1984) and tossed it into the crowd. My mother was holding me and standing on her chair, and my father was holding my brother; my parents dropped both of us as they leaped up and grabbed the t-shirt. Two guys behind my father also had their hands on the t-shirt and they would not release their grip. I was crying on the floor. My brother was crying on the floor. My father was fighting for the Michael Jackson t-shirt. Finally my mother picked us up, and my father decided that the only solution was to división, split the t-shirt with the guys.

Hot balloon flight, October 1984

“We were flying fairly low,” Bansemer said, “and we flew over what looked like an elementary school with children playing in the playground, and he started to sing to them, and of course they had no idea who that was. Who would think, ‘Hey, that’s Michael Jackson?’ We were high enough that he wasn’t highly recognizable.”