This is the story of my two brief encounters with Michael Jackson. I first wrote it on the day he died. Until then, only close friends and family knew it, but that day I felt his generosity deserved to be remembered in public.
My first days in Los Angeles
I was studying at Musicians Institute and had just arrived in the United States. After an afternoon in Santa Monica, I caught something unusual in a shop window: the reflection of a white limousine stopping outside an almost empty café.
Michael Jackson stepped out and walked in.
I ran across the street. We talked about guitars, Jennifer Batten, music and Brazil. He asked whether I thought people would come to see him if he performed there. I assured him they would — an answer that required no market research whatsoever.
When he started towards the door, I assumed the encounter was over. Then he said he only wanted some ice cream and invited me to walk with him.
The ice cream and the card
Before he left, I gathered enough courage to say that I would love to play a song with him one day. Michael stopped, smiled and asked for my card. I had just moved to Los Angeles and did not own anything as sophisticated as a business card.
He found a scrap of paper and asked me to write down my phone number. He put it in his pocket and, just before getting into the car, walked back to the café door to show me he still had it.
Two months later, our paths crossed again in a Hollywood alley. The limousine stopped, he stepped out with police officers, recognised me and smiled. There was no time to talk. He pointed to his wrist as if to say he was late, waved and moved on.
The King of Kindness
Years later, here in Brazil, I told this story over wine with Paulo Ricardo and the late guitarist Luiz Carlini. What stayed with me was not the limousine, the fame or even the improbable setting. It was the calm presence of someone who could easily have ignored a young musician and chose not to.
He treated me as an equal despite the unmistakable scale of who he was. The King of Kindness. The King of Dance. The King of Music.
A kiss for you, my brother. You helped us dream without ever knowing it.