Excerpts from Just A Man |
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The Real Michael Hutchence - Just A Man The Real Michael Hutchence - Just a Man is available at bookstores in the United Kingdom, Ireland, New Zealand and Australia and on line from www.amazon.com
Prologue - "Bitter Tears" My husband Ken was there, along with Erin's boyfriend Joshua and my colleagues. They sang 'Happy Birthday' and I blew out the candles. After some joking around, I called my mother and my stepfather Ross. When Ross came on the line he reminded me that it was just four weeks and three days until we were to go and spend Christmas on Australia's Gold Coast where they lived. I met Ken for an early dinner. When I got home I found an urgent message from my younger brother, Rhett. He sounded almost hysterical. My immediate thought was that something had happened to our father. Rhett answered my return call, told me to sit down and asked if Ken was with me. I could hear Mother moaning in the background. "What? What is it?" I asked. It must be something to do with Ross. I looked around for somewhere to sit. There was nowhere in my clean, hard, clinical kitchen. "Please, tell me what it is." He was sobbing by now. "Oh Darling, it's Michael. He's dead". For a moment I was suspended in time. Then I found myself sinking to the cold floor. "No, no, no." I was screaming now. "It's true, Darling". I was adamant, "That's impossible." But I could still hear my Mother in the background again. "Its true Tina. Oh Tina, its true." "How, how? Where? " I screamed; but nothing was coming out. Ken was just staring at me. "We don't know yet", cried Rhett. "Where is he? Who told you? It can't be true, it's those stupid, irresponsible, journalists. They'll say anything. Who have you spoken with?" I was going to fix everything. My brother Michael Hutchence fronted the rock band INXS. In recent years he'd tended to be the family fixer but it was me who had taught him how to tie his shoelaces. I'd fix this. "I'll call Martha", I said. Martha Troup is Michael's manager. I'd restore the sanity, calm everyone down, we can repair this. In the family this had always been my job. But Rhett was sobbing again. "Darling, we don't know anything yet, just that it's true and it happened at the Ritz Carlton. Mum's place, is surrounded by television crews. Call Martha. Get a flight. Come home" There was a short, incoherent attempt at speaking to Mother before I handed the phone to Ken. I hadn't been able to ask about Paula Yates and her and Michael's daughter Tiger Lily. I wandered around the house, screaming inside; it's impossible, impossible. It must be another lie. Ken turned on CNN. They were already reporting it. And then I remembered my children and went into my 'take charge' mode. I did not want Brent, who was twenty-five at the time, or Erin to hear about their uncle on television especially as I did not even believe it. I paged Erin, and without giving her time to return the call, I dialed Joshua's house where I hoped she would be. I spoke with Joshua's dad, briefly explaining what was happening. He told me that she had left for her apartment and Joshua had followed. I was worried sick that she would hear the news on her car radio. Brent attends the University of Southern California, in Monterey Bay. I left an urgent message for him to call me too, hung up and dialed his pager. Meanwhile a call was coming through on my call waiting. It was Erin, she was laughing as I answered and made some crack about me checking up on her. She had not heard yet, but I didn't have much time before her phone would begin screeching with calls from her friends. She had just arrived home and was expecting Joshua any minute. I hesitated to tell her the terrible news, hoping Joshua would arrive. My voice dropped as I asked if she had her television on, and she reminded me that she couldn't get any channels, and so only watches videos. For once I was glad that she had neglected to pay her cable bill. "Mom. Mom? You're frightening me, what's happened?" As calmly as possible, I told her what I had heard and she broke down. Through her tears she cried, "But Mom, are you sure, you know what those journalists are like." I assured her that as far as we knew it was true, and told her to have Joshua drive them both over to the house as soon as he reached her. Brent finally called, in shock. "How, when? Mom, it's on TV Can they say that?" When did we all become so skeptical of the press? Brent sobbed and said he wanted to go to Australia. I told him to sit tight and I would get some details. My call waiting interrupted us. It was a friend calling from Sydney. She said radio stations were reporting that Michael had hanged himself. Impossible. No, they are wrong. They sensationalize everything he does. I don't believe it. I wouldn't believe that for a minute. I still did not know what had happened. The phone would not stop ringing, but with every call, hope still jumped in my heart and I picked up, expected to hear that it was all a mistake. At last I got through to Martha. She was crying. Her phones won't stop ringing. Yes, it is true; but she does not want to believe it either. She tells me that she spoke to Michael earlier in the day New York time when he had been with friends in his hotel room. Later, he had left two messages for her, one at the office and another on her home machine. His last message was painful, he just said, "Marth... I can't take it any more". When I ask her if she has spoken with Paula Yates, her voice changes, lowers. "No, I... well, anyway, I didn't want to deal with it. I couldn't. I sent someone over to her house." She sobbed into the phone, flogging herself, because she was not there for Michael. I tell her she was the one person who was always there for him. For some reason, I do not even ask her about the circumstances surrounding Michael's death. Somehow I can't phrase the words, I am afraid to ask. If I do not actually hear the answer, maybe it had not happened after all. I tell Martha I am on standby for a 1:30pm flight on Saturday. She is trying to get out on an early morning flight from New York, to connect with mine. We hang up together when we find that we are both sobbing so uncontrollably and cannot speak any longer. Various friends call, many of whom had been at my house on special occasions when Michael had been in town. The last time was just four months ago, in honour of Erin and Tiger Lily whose birthdays are only four days apart. Devastated, everybody is calling but nobody knows what to say. They mean well, I know, but who can make this nightmare go away? My friends all ask what they can do, try to convey their love and warmth, but nothing helps. This pain is here to stay. Erin finally arrives. I had begun to pack in a helpless, floundering way, but she takes over, so that my bag at least contains routine essentials and between us we deal with the constantly ringing phone. I walk around the house in an aimless daze. A cup of tea? How can I get anything past the lump in my throat? I awake after a fitful sleep and the horrible truth slams across my brain, crushing that tiny moment of hope, of normality. There's my suitcase: it was not a nightmare. It is 5am, Saturday, in California, 8am in New York and I call to see if Martha has made the New York to Los Angeles flight. Her husband Bill tells me she is going for the one thirty out of Los Angeles. This is real, not a movie reel although feeling seemingly surreal. As I go about my morning routine, I keep thinking of the old Skeeter Davis song, "The End Of The World"...why does the sun go on shining... I stand under my shower, and I hear a woman scream. It is me. Gold Coast, Australia November 22nd had started out as a fun shopping day. My younger son Rhett, his partner Mandy and daughter Zoe Angel had arrived the evening before. Rhett was a bit out of sorts because he had been in Sydney and prior to leaving he was to have met up with Michael, who had overslept and missed him. Rhett and Michael had not had any contact at all in eleven months, mostly due to Michael's touring schedule, so Christmas 1997 was going to be wonderful. Michael was in Australia, on his final tour with INXS after twenty years together. He wanted to concentrate now on a career in films and had just completed a cameo role in a movie in Canada. He had several offers from producers and couldn't wait to finish the tour so that he could develop all this. Tina would be arriving on the Gold Coast in four weeks and this would be the first time in four years we would all be in Australia together for Christmas. Ross and I had decided to spoil Rhett that year and surprise him with a new car. We had asked the salesman to deliver it to our house on Christmas Eve, filled with balloons and tied with a huge red ribbon with HAPPY XMAS RHETT printed on it. We already derived so much pleasure from this and couldn't wait to see his face. Rhett had a serious drug problem, had been in and out of rehabilitation for the past couple of years. I was so proud of him as he was committed to this effort, although his addictive personality seems to mean that this is something that Rhett must deal with for the rest of his life. It was a sunny Saturday morning and while Ross went off to the golf club Rhett, Mandy, Zoe and I headed to the Pacific Mall to finish our Christmas shopping. We decided to go our separate ways and meet up in one hour in the coffee shop. I found some lovely dresses for Mandy and Zoe, did some shopping at the Lancome counter, then collected the gold bracelets Ross and I had ordered for the two youngest grand daughters, Zoe Angel and Tiger Lily. After this we decided we had done enough and headed home. As we walked back past the beauty counter, I noticed the sales girls were staring at us oddly. It occurred to me that this must be because Mandy, who was walking a few paces ahead of me, was breast-feeding Zoe, as young women often do these days. Then again I figured it could just be Rhett and Mandy, as they do attract attention. Both are very tall and Rhett had dreadlocks at the time. When we returned home there were numerous calls on my answering machine, mainly journalists, one whom I knew said it was extremely urgent and would I please, please call her. Before I could answer her call, my intercom buzzer started going crazy. When I pushed the button to see the screen I could see channels Seven and Nine cameras in the background and hear voices all yelling into the intercom that they wanted to speak to me. I sensed then that something was wrong and began to feel bewildered and scared. I decided to phone the journalist I knew, as I did not want to hear any news - good or bad from a stranger. Before I could call her, she called back extremely distressed. I demanded to know what was going on. She told me the news that no mother ever wants to hear. Disbelieving, I told Rhett to phone the Ritz Carlton in Sydney and ask for room 524, and demand to speak to Michael. He was told there was no answer in that room. Maybe he had changed his pseudonym from "Murray River" or changed rooms- he sometimes did this if unwelcome people had tracked him down. I then asked Rhett to get me the manager of the hotel who eventually told Rhett that we should ring the Rose Bay Police Station. My heart started pounding. This was a nightmare. I had to speak to Tina. Rhett was able to speak to someone at the police station and they informed him of the situation, yet nobody called me. Not Michaels' father or the detectives who were handling the case. Rhett phoned Tina in Los Angeles but only got her voice mail. Then she called. Rhett told her the terrible news. She was devastated and uncomprehending. Rhett handed me the phone and we just cried. It was impossible to speak...there were no words to take away the stabbing pain in my heart, which was pounding as though it were going to burst through my body. The buzzer was still making such a noise, the voices still screaming into the intercom. All I could think was, please make them go away. Ross arrived home, briefly oblivious to the crisis. He immediately took control and made flight arrangements to go straight to Sydney. He is my rock and has continued to be, throughout it all. The rest of the day was a blur. I wanted to block it out of my mind...to sleep and wake up to a happy shopping spree, to listen to my messages on my answer machine and hear Michael's voice..."Hi Mum. How are you? Where are you? Has Rhett arrived? How is Ross, is he at golf?" and to hear him say "I love you Mum"...as he always did before hanging up. He had called me just two days ago, he had sounded tired but happy to be in Sydney. I did a lot of screaming the rest of that day. I could hear myself repeating the words to Rhett. NO! NO! WHY? HOW? IT CAN'T BE TRUE. I wandered around the house picking up photographs, putting them down, I walked out on the balcony and looked over at the beach, and the sunny Queensland sky. I thought of the day Ross had taken Michael out for a spin in a Tiger Moth. They had circled over our apartment building so I could take a photograph of Michael in it. Rhett was sobbing uncontrollably. "Why Michael, why not me, Mum?" He was referring to his self-destructive tendencies. Rhett had done some serious and heavy playing at times - yet always seemed able to pick himself up from the floor of the pit. I would run to the bathroom, dry retching, then back to the living room to sit in stunned silence, trying to comprehend this madness, this intrusion into our lives. Rhett was speaking to Tina again. He was still crying. I suddenly felt a warm hand on my arm. It was little Zoe Angel. I looked into her beautiful blue eyes as she said, "Grandma cry, Zoe cry, Daddy cry, Zoe cry." We had all but forgotten this dear little child standing there with a slight frown on her face and struggling to understand what it was that had broken the happy spell of our morning. I asked Ross to book us into the Ritz Carlton in Sydney. By morning I had changed my mind and we all stayed at the nearby Sir Stamford Hotel. I did not sleep well that night and kept waking with panic attacks. Robotically I got up and showered, threw a few clothes into a bag, dressed and made some tea. I waited for the rest of the family to wake, then for the car to arrive to take us to the airport to start the journey to hell. I learned of Michael's death via the media and I am still appalled about this. It would have been so easy for the authorities to contact me. So often one reads in the news-'the name has been withheld pending notification of the family'. It would seem that Michael's family would be given the same respect. This was only the beginning and a fragment of our nightmare. We arrived in Sydney, Michael's birthplace. As we drove through those familiar streets I was reminded of my sweet son on every block. Huge posters of upcoming INXS concerts were plastered on every block. Newspaper shops with placards on the footpath with Michael's photograph and bold announcements of his death. I was still in denial. It must be a mistake, someone else, maybe some other pitiable mother's son. Chapter 4 - "In Excess, like I-N-X-S" On one of the hottest May weekends in 1983, INXS played the massive US Festival, on a ranch in the San Bernadino mountains south-east of Los Angeles. They performed in front of 150,000 people. Others appearing that weekend included The Pretenders, Stevie Nicks, U2, The Clash, Van Halen, A Flock of Seagulls, David Bowie, Judas Priest, Motley Crue, and AC/DC, to name a few of the acts. Jeff and I arrived without backstage passes. Not realizing the enormity of the open venue, we were herded onto a ranch where they seemed only to be serving beer. Without water, or even a soft drink, I became dehydrated within the first two hours and we were coming up against a brick wall at the backstage gate. We finally spotted Gary Grant as he came out to watch INXS in the sound tower. The young Australian band was in the early line-up of the first day, an unenviable slot. Most of the crowd is restless and waiting for the more, well known bands to come on. The stage was already set up with the equipment for upcoming performers so INXS had, a much smaller stage area from which to work the crowd. As we stood next to the sound tower watching the performance, I was very nervous for Michael. But INXS put across a tremendous performance and even earned an unexpected encore. The audience, all MTV babies, went wild for 'The One Thing' and 'Don't Change' -both on high video rotation. These two songs would become staples on set lists for U.S. tours for the next fourteen years for INXS. Although I was feeling light-headed due to the heat and lack of water I refused to miss a second of this momentous performance. It was very exciting for them, and the crowd had gone nuts. After INXS left the stage, Gary told us he would be waiting at the gate with the passes. He hurried off ahead of us and as we approached the backstage, I felt myself sink to the ground. Jeff did not notice and just kept walking as I rolled into the only shade I could find, the underside of a parked truck. When I came to, I was being carried by a very large Texan, wearing a Stetson. Once again, I was in front of the backstage gate, and this time asking for a medic. Security ushered the cowboy in, and he deposited me in a room under the stage. This was the makeshift first aid station. I was packed in ice and periodically checked. My name was taken, and I passed out again. When I came to, I heard a doctor say that he thought I should be sent to the local hospital. I remember trying to speak, to tell them that I needed to let someone know where I was, but I could not get the words out, and before long I was in an ambulance. At the hospital, which had a huge area set up and ready for casualties from the two day concert, I was finally able to recover, and was discharged to a waiting ambulance who returned me to the backstage area. After roaming around for a bit, dodging television cameras, which were recording impromptu interviews, a number of bands who were waiting to go on, and many party revellers, I found Andrew Farriss, and a very worried Jeff. They were waiting for me because everybody else was on the bus and ready to go back to Burbank. The plan had been to celebrate the successful day with dinner at our house. As I attempted to leave the backstage area, I was once again informed that I was not wearing the correct security pass. I was standing between Andrew and Jeff. Andrew just said, "This is bullshit, we're leaving, and she's leaving with us" and they each took an arm and we charged through with Michael following. I was in no shape to cook so we sent out for pizzas and Jeff made batches and batches of his famous margaritas. When the late news came on, the only band they featured from the US Festival, was the new, young, Australian band. There were Michael, Kirk, Andrew, Jon, Tim and Garry all strutting their stuff on national television. Sure they were used to being seen on Australian television with a possible 15 million viewers, but this was the United States, a country with three hundred million people. We sat around the television in silence and wonderment before switching channels to see how many other networks were carrying the same footage. The press had suggested that Michael was corrupting Kylie; the truth is more that he was educating her. Kylie was smart and listened and learned. He gave her confidence which enabled her to take better control of her career. I did not have too much to do with her but from my observation the more control she had the nicer she became. I know how frustrated Michael had become as the years went on and he felt he was losing control over his own career and finances. It is ironic to think that as he was instilling so much confidence in Kylie he was beginning to lose control over his own personal affairs. When Michael and Kylie split up she was devastated. But they were able to maintain a loving lasting friendship. Kylie has indeed turned into a beautiful girl, the total professional, and a huge international star. I was dining with a friend Susan. A friend of hers came by and Susan introduced me -it was Nicola Diamond estranged wife of Stephen Diamond. Nicola started talking about Michael's properties on the Gold Coast. The home on Isle Of Capri The Bowling Alley in Labrador etc. and the safe they kept everything hidden. She had worked in the Diamond's office. I told her I did not think it appropriate she discussed Michael's affairs outside the office. Ross and I had sold our house and decided to use Stephen Diamond to close the sale as the buyer was leaving for Melbourne that day. As we were leaving the house the mail arrived with a letter from Nicola Diamond apologising for her indiscretion. Stephen Diamond brought up this incident while we in his office, and I told him it was alright she had sent me a letter of apology herself. He asked if he could see the letter. Reluctantly I showed it to him, and as I put my hand out he grabbed it from me-read it and ripped it to shreds. (In the book I had to change that to "it got ripped") I was shaking and furious but somehow didn't have the courage to retrieve it from the wastebasket. In hindsight I wish I had. Chapter 17 - "Putting the Pieces Back Together" Michael had kept a residence in Hong Kong until 1995, when he began to spend more time in London. The monthly rental on his storage was ridiculous. Why hadn't the family been asked if if we would like to have something personal? Andrew Young had been authorised by Colin Diamond to collect everything which had been taken from his hotel room by the police, and Paula had kept everything from the London home. We assumed the contents of the villa were still there, but where was the need to to continue paying storage fees in Hong Kong? We asked for the container to be shipped to Sydney but the request was denied. After much arguing back and forth with the executors, permission was finally given by the remaining executor Andrew Paul, who promised we would be given all the help we needed. for Tina and I go to Hong Kong to sort out these personal belongings. It was eighteen months since Michael's death. Andrew Paul told his two minders and the packers to watch we did not remove anything without his permission. Thus we had to ask him for a T Shirt, a book even personal letters we had written to Michael. There were some family photos - one from Erin in her childish writing: 'To Uncle Michael and Michele love from Erin xxx'. We waited while Andrew Paul consulted with his right hand man a big seemingly unfriendly individual who spoke to A Paul in Cantonese most of the time. I was allowed to pack a box for Rhett, but the storage area was not air-conditioned it was difficult to find clothing worth saving due to the humidity, as it was mouldy due to the humidity, or battery operated equipment had been thrown in with the clothing and the acid had leaked. It appeared it was taking too long just looking at the clothing and I overheard Andrew Paul say to his assistant "let them have this s--t" He tossed a case at us and told us to take the clothes to the hotel to sort. So it went on in the incredible heat. We were feeling so tired, so humiliated and sad and angry for Michael to be treated this way. They photographed paintings among them a Brett Whitely and a Norman Lindsay I had seen at his Hong Kong apartment, many Chinese artifacts and about twenty four awards. I asked him what had happened to the rest? He said we could not have anything of value, as they would probably be sold. Tina found a few important papers and managed to get some copies. I noticed a large brown envelope addressed to Michael with the name of his previous financial adviser Gordon Fisher. About 3.30pm Paul decided he had enough so he allowed us to take to battered cases of clothing back to the Hotel Sheraton where we were staying. We walked into the lobby looking like a couple of refugees from a war zone. Emotionally and physically exhausted, far too tired to eat. - Patricia Glassop When the first pages of this book were written, it was just a thought, a way of trying to understand the reason for this loss, a way to work through my grief the pain of losing Michael and the way it happened. I kept thinking if he had a serious illness then maybe I could have come to terms with this tragedy, but this wasn't the case - or so I told myself. However the truth is that depression is an illness more debilitating than one easily detected by by a physical injury. Suicide is such a tragedy as we never get the chance to say goodbye, so many questions, no answers forthcoming. There is no closure with suicide and for that reason it is harder to come to terms with. Michael was a gentle loving boy, who loved life and certainly tried to do everything he wanted to do in the time he lived. I am lucky to have so many wonderful memories. He loved his family, his friends, travel, music and his beautiful daughter Tiger Lily. His voice and his music will always live on. - Patricia Glassop
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