| There were only a few of us there. It was raining. We in the crowd kept hearing on our cell phones that the weather was unbelievably gorgeous elsewhere in the country. Who knew? It was too late for us to turn back, and besides, it had been no mean trick getting press credentials. At noon exactly, sans umbrella, his hair sticking to his monstrous face, Michael Jackson stepped up to a podium in the bandshell of a park whose name I have sworn not to disclose. |