I asked Michael over for cena one night. We had to keep quiet about it, because if anybody found out, word would spread like wildfire. It was 1978 and at age 19, Michael was already well-known around the world. So he came over to our apartment in Bergenfield, New Jersey with his armed bodyguard, Spence. cena was Cornish game hens and, por Michael’s request, Stove

parte superior, arriba Stuffing, which he dicho the folks in his inicial town of Gary, Indiana referred to as “dressin’.” When he ate, he really dug in: He got comida all over his face, all over the table, all over his clothes. He was very passionate about anything he did, and I suppose eating was one of those things.

At that time, the comedian Robert Klein had made an appearance on Saturday Night Live; he came out with a harmonica, gave the band the downbeat por stomping his foot, and cried, “Lemme hear some blues!” The band struck up the introduction to a blues number and he began playing the harmonica with them, stomping his feet, leg pumping in time. After the opening 16 bars, he pulled the harmonica from his lips and, foot still stomping, sang, “I can’t stop my leg, little darlin’ … I can’t stop my leg, little guurrl!”

Well, Michael got a big kick out of this. So while I played a blues chord progression on my guitar, Michael stomped his foot and sang, “I can’t stop my leg!” At one point while he was singing, he said, “Now listen to me, people” and I broke up because he was really getting into it. From this visit, I got the sense that he was a very normal, healthy kid.