I first met Michael on a hillside in Colorado in 1984. He was on the famous Victory Tour with his brothers.
Michael was the first to come running over to help when I slipped going up a steep muddy hill. I was fine, but a couple of lenses got covered in mud. That was the first time Michael took a liking to one of my brown Scottish tweed sports jackets, so I took it off and gave it to him. He seemed pleased by my gesture and immediately put it on, put both arms out and twirled around in the bright sunlight while I photographed him running and jumping. On stage that night he glittered in sequins. I flew back to New York with the photographs.
The momentum of the Victory Tour kept building, so I joined Michael in Philadelphia for more photos. The same thing happened again. This time it was a gray Harris tweed jacket. I saw him looking closely at the colors in the tweed. They seemed to fascinate him, so again I gave him my jacket. Sometime later I was amused to see a news clip of Michael actually wearing the jacket, running into a limo, mobbed by fans.
