… Rose Fine, a Jewish woman who was my beloved childhood tutor and who traveled with me and my brothers when we were all in the Jackson Five.
MJ: After the show I would run into Rose’s room. We’d read and have warm milk and I needed that so badly. She would always say to me, “The door’s open”, and she would leave her door open.
You think she saw you as her son?
MJ: She called me her son…
Did she show you unconditional love?
MJ: Yes.
So you think unconditional love can be shown even by two people who are not related by blood?
MJ: Oh my God, yes, of course. I think I learned it through her and I have seen it and I have experienced it. It doesn’t matter with blood or race or creed or color. Love is love and it breaks all boundaries and you just see it right away. I see it in the children’s eyes. When I see children, I see helpless little puppies. They are so sweet. How could anybody hurt them?
Rose Fine, although she wasn’t your biological mother, was able to show you a lot of motherly affection?
MJ: And boy did I need it. I was never with my mother when I was little, very seldom, and I had a wonderful mother. I see her as an angel, and I was always gone, always on tour, doing back-to-back concerts, all over America, overseas, clubs, just always gone. Rose was with us all the way from the very first professional tour of the Jackson 5 until I was eighteen.
And she would teach you during the day?
MJ: Aha.
Regular subjects? Mathematics? English? She taught all the five of you together?
MJ: Yes, together, three hours. She taught Janet, all of them.
MJ: Rose died this year, Janet and myself, we paid for her nurse and her hospital care, or if her television broke down or the electricity, or there was anything wrong with the house, we would cover the bills. Now her husband is sick, so I am taking care of him, and because we felt she is our mother and you take care of your mother…
You really felt like that?
MJ: Absolutely. She was more than a tutor and I was so angry at myself that when she died I was far, far away. I couldn’t get there.
… it hurt when I came to the door to see her and I went, “Mrs. Fine, it’s Michael”, and she would go, “You are not Michael”… That hurts so much. Growing old is not always pretty. It’s sad.