Los Olivos Journal NY Times
Neverland, Old Neighbors and New Visitors
By RANDAL C. ARCHIBOLD 
LOS OLIVOS, Calif. — Every now and then, a black Bentley would pull up in front of Young’s Gallery here and out would spill a knot of children and a man with a very large umbrella and mask. Michael Jackson needed to pick up his framed art.
“He was a person, not a celebrity,” said the gallery owner, Ralph Young, who still had nearly a dozen prints — mostly Norman Rockwell depictions of animals and children — that Mr. Jackson had ordered but failed to pick up since he moved from his Neverland ranch four years ago.
Yes, it has been a while since Mr. Jackson, who moved from the ranch five miles up a country road after his 2005 acquittal on child molesting charges, popped into the boutiques and markets here, usually without a stir.
Mr. Young is out about $500, but he said that it was “water under the bridge” and that he had no plans to go after Mr. Jackson’s estate. He has not even put up a sign identifying the prints in his store, which he said Mr. Jackson had carefully selected with stickers in a catalog in the shop.
But now some in this wine country village, the setting of some scenes from the hit movie “Sideways,” are wondering if their gentle attitude toward Mr. Jackson will be tested as the ranch and the spillover of fans gathering there make this something of a Graceland-like stop on the Michael Jackson after-death tour.
The owner of the ranch is a real estate firm called Colony Capital L.L.C., which bought it as a joint venture with Mr. Jackson last year as his finances collapsed. The company has not announced plans for it, but it did open its gates to reporters and photographers on Thursday.
The 13,000-square-foot French country main house is barren, and Mr. Jackson had not updated the interior much since he bought in the late 1980s: dark, solid-oak floors from an 18th century chateau meet patches of exposed brick. The kitchen cabinets are chipped and worn; the bedroom holds nothing but echoes; the cedar-lined closets, including a hidden compartment inside the main walk-in, are ready for another regiment’s worth of clothes.
What remains of the amusement rides and outdoor Jumbotron where Mr. Jackson once played video games with friends are the worn concrete patches where they once stood. A bowl of water was left behind in the tiger pen.
With the major networks coming for broadcasts, the house staff spruced up the grounds, notably restoring 40 of the statues of playing children that once adorned the ranch, which is 2,700 hilly acres, with at least five fountains, a couple of lakes and two railroads.
The air-conditioning cranked only in the “Elizabeth Taylor” house, the four-apartment guest house where Ms. Taylor stayed on visits and where staff members now bunk on air mattresses.
All in all, Neverland, reflecting Mr. Jackson’s late career, seemed forlorn.
“All of this was for the big kid that he really was,” said a long-time caretaker who spoke anonymously on orders from the company that owns the property. “He wanted everybody happy and comfortable. He had perfume sprayed in the giraffe barn because he didn’t like the smell and didn’t think his guests would.”
Outside the gates, it did not seem to matter to the 100 or 200 fans who gathered from the around the world that a family spokesman had said Mr. Jackson’s funeral would not take place here.
An encampment of news media and fans sprang up days ago and, though somewhat thinned as word of no funeral spread, it still sported large satellite trucks, many faithful clutching flowers, writing remembrances on a white board — “Canada loves you! — and playing and dancing to his music.
Some had flown in for the funeral. “It is more than seeing a body,” said Elias Romero, 30, who came from Albuquerque. “It is seeing a life.”
In town, such sentiment gets a mixed reception, with people appreciative of the little bump in business in recent days — a number of stores played Mr. Jackson’s hits — but worried that the attention would tarnish the rustic image.
“Right now it’s no really big deal with people going to see where he lived, but it is not outrageous,” said Frank Palmer, a musician who grew up around here and recalled playing on the ranch land before it was Neverland.
“But this was a sleepy little town not too long ago,” Mr. Palmer added, “and a lot of people want to keep it that way. They still remember Elizabeth Taylor.”
That would be a reference to the star’s wedding in 1991 to Larry Fortensky, which locals do not remember so fondly, with all the clattering helicopters, droves of limousines and cameras everywhere.
The police have already sought to restrict parking on the narrow, two-lane highway leading to the ranch, but they seem to be tolerating the fact that most people are ignoring the new no-parking signs. One vendor selling Jackson T-shirts from a minivan even moved a sign partly blocking the view of his wares.
Michael Bainer, a retired county employee who spent much of his youth in the hills around here, grimaced at all the attention, though understood if the ranch were opened in some way to fans.
“I’m not sure I even like all the wineries around here,” Mr. Bainer said. But when it comes to Neverland, “they should open so people could see what it was all about.”
LOS OLIVOS, Calif. — Every now and then, a black Bentley would pull up in front of Young’s Gallery here and out would spill a knot of children and a man with a very large umbrella and mask. Michael Jackson needed to pick up his framed art.
“He was a person, not a celebrity,” said the gallery owner, Ralph Young, who still had nearly a dozen prints — mostly Norman Rockwell depictions of animals and children — that Mr. Jackson had ordered but failed to pick up since he moved from his Neverland ranch four years ago.
Yes, it has been a while since Mr. Jackson, who moved from the ranch five miles up a country road after his 2005 acquittal on child molesting charges, popped into the boutiques and markets here, usually without a stir.
Mr. Young is out about $500, but he said that it was “water under the bridge” and that he had no plans to go after Mr. Jackson’s estate. He has not even put up a sign identifying the prints in his store, which he said Mr. Jackson had carefully selected with stickers in a catalog in the shop.
But now some in this wine country village, the setting of some scenes from the hit movie “Sideways,” are wondering if their gentle attitude toward Mr. Jackson will be tested as the ranch and the spillover of fans gathering there make this something of a Graceland-like stop on the Michael Jackson after-death tour.
The owner of the ranch is a real estate firm called Colony Capital L.L.C., which bought it as a joint venture with Mr. Jackson last year as his finances collapsed. The company has not announced plans for it, but it did open its gates to reporters and photographers on Thursday.
The 13,000-square-foot French country main house is barren, and Mr. Jackson had not updated the interior much since he bought in the late 1980s: dark, solid-oak floors from an 18th century chateau meet patches of exposed brick. The kitchen cabinets are chipped and worn; the bedroom holds nothing but echoes; the cedar-lined closets, including a hidden compartment inside the main walk-in, are ready for another regiment’s worth of clothes.
What remains of the amusement rides and outdoor Jumbotron where Mr. Jackson once played video games with friends are the worn concrete patches where they once stood. A bowl of water was left behind in the tiger pen.
With the major networks coming for broadcasts, the house staff spruced up the grounds, notably restoring 40 of the statues of playing children that once adorned the ranch, which is 2,700 hilly acres, with at least five fountains, a couple of lakes and two railroads.
The air-conditioning cranked only in the “Elizabeth Taylor” house, the four-apartment guest house where Ms. Taylor stayed on visits and where staff members now bunk on air mattresses.
All in all, Neverland, reflecting Mr. Jackson’s late career, seemed forlorn.
“All of this was for the big kid that he really was,” said a long-time caretaker who spoke anonymously on orders from the company that owns the property. “He wanted everybody happy and comfortable. He had perfume sprayed in the giraffe barn because he didn’t like the smell and didn’t think his guests would.”
Outside the gates, it did not seem to matter to the 100 or 200 fans who gathered from the around the world that a family spokesman had said Mr. Jackson’s funeral would not take place here.
An encampment of news media and fans sprang up days ago and, though somewhat thinned as word of no funeral spread, it still sported large satellite trucks, many faithful clutching flowers, writing remembrances on a white board — “Canada loves you! — and playing and dancing to his music.
Some had flown in for the funeral. “It is more than seeing a body,” said Elias Romero, 30, who came from Albuquerque. “It is seeing a life.”
In town, such sentiment gets a mixed reception, with people appreciative of the little bump in business in recent days — a number of stores played Mr. Jackson’s hits — but worried that the attention would tarnish the rustic image.
“Right now it’s no really big deal with people going to see where he lived, but it is not outrageous,” said Frank Palmer, a musician who grew up around here and recalled playing on the ranch land before it was Neverland.
“But this was a sleepy little town not too long ago,” Mr. Palmer added, “and a lot of people want to keep it that way. They still remember Elizabeth Taylor.”
That would be a reference to the star’s wedding in 1991 to Larry Fortensky, which locals do not remember so fondly, with all the clattering helicopters, droves of limousines and cameras everywhere.
The police have already sought to restrict parking on the narrow, two-lane highway leading to the ranch, but they seem to be tolerating the fact that most people are ignoring the new no-parking signs. One vendor selling Jackson T-shirts from a minivan even moved a sign partly blocking the view of his wares.
Michael Bainer, a retired county employee who spent much of his youth in the hills around here, grimaced at all the attention, though understood if the ranch were opened in some way to fans.
“I’m not sure I even like all the wineries around here,” Mr. Bainer said. But when it comes to Neverland, “they should open so people could see what it was all about.”
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