Anyway, on this night, I was all alone by the speaker because everyone wanted to get close to Michael.

But when he entered the room, he was accompanied by Quincy Jones, who had produced the record, and it was Jones who moved to the microphone.

Michael stayed back, near the speaker.

Journalists would ask Jones a question, and when he finished his answer, they would turn in unison toward Michael but the pop star would say nothing.

Finally, after the last question, every journalist in the room looked longingly toward Michael, pleading for a comment.

I was about two feet from the performer, and even through the sunglasses, I could see that his eyes were staring at the floor. The words "painfully shy" didn't adequately cover it.

Even Jones teased Michael about not talking, but he gave up and walked toward Jackson, motioning toward the doorway. Journalists started shouting out questions. They were desperate for a quote.

Then, just as Jackson turned to leave, he whispered something.

I was the only one close enough to hear him.

It wasn't momentous. He merely said that he was "happy to be here tonight."

I wrote it down dutifully and shrugged my shoulders. Something was better than nothing.

Then I turned around and found myself in an E.F. Hutton commercial.

Remember those classic commercials in which one person would tell a friend what his broker advised him, and they discovered that everyone in the room was eavesdropping?

Well, I turned around and 100 of the top music journalists in the world were leaning in my direction, their notebooks open and pens ready to write.

"What did he say?" someone shouted. "Yes, what did he say?" another chimed in.

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I pretended to look at my notes, as if I wanted to make sure I got the historic quote correct, and then looked up at the group.

"He said he always reads The Orange County Register."