The Newtrons Meet Michael Jackson

ron-newt-coverAll That Glitters Is Not Gold – The Music The Magic The Madness – by Ron Newt

Chapter Eighteen – The Newtrons Meet Michael Jackson

Get a glimpse into a life that very few get to experience or never live to talk about it. Memories told from this Original Smooth Criminal, Ron Newt (aka Prince Diamond) include a decade of rumors, gossip, misfortune as well as his candid reflections on his friendship with The King of Pop, Michael Jackson. Less After reviewing Newt’s police, state & federal record, it quickly becomes clear that he is the man who put the “G” in gangster throughout the City by the Bay, San Francisco, CA. Newt finally breaks the unspoken code about his rise, fall & the in betweens.


Ron Newt is perhaps best known for his claim that he was offered $200,000 around the time of the Chandler allegations to lie about Michael Jackson molesting his sons. It’s curious that he was approached by Jim Mitteager from The National Enquirer who, through Paul Barressi, was closely connected with Anthony Pellicano. Pellicano at that time, as reported by Nikki Finke, “…in many cases was acting as a triple agent – giving information to the tabloids, then pressing the reporters to reveal the identities of other sources so he could track down those sources and reveal them to the stars’ reps for pursuit.” 

In 2006 the Los Angeles Magazine reported in their story The Machiavelli of Muck:

By the late ’80s, Pellicano had become involved in a far more complex dance with the tabloids. In 1997, Jim Mitteager, a reporter for the National Enquirer and the Globe, died of cancer. Shortly before his death, he gave hundreds of tapes he had secretly recorded to Paul Barresi, an informant and sometime investigator for Pellicano.
Transcripts of the tapes provided by Barresi, a former porn star and producer currently working as an unlicensed investigator, show Pellicano trading gossip and planting stories with Mitteager and Globe reporter Cliff Dunn while paying to have other stories killed.

Whether Pellicano was acting in that capacity in regards to the Newts may or may not be true, but we can be sure that Mitteager met the family in 1993, as is confirmed in this April 2005 article by Roger Friedman. This article also confirms why the story would have been slim pickings for the National Enquirer and why Newt could not have done anything but refuse to cooperate – the Newt boys spent only fleeting moments with the star:

After much pushing, he [Ron Newt] got the attention of Joe Jackson, who agreed to manage the group. Joe Jackson got the Newtrons a showcase at the Roxy in West Hollywood.

Michael showed up and loved them. The result was a two-week stay for the boys at the Encino house on Hayvenhurst Ave., where they were supposed to work on their music.

“We would see Michael in passing. We didn’t see him, maybe, because he was working on an album. We saw him downstairs in the kitchen and we talked to him,” he [Bobby Newt] said.

Ron Newt explains in the excerpt below that he met with Mitteager to “tell the world that Michael Jackson never tried anything inappropriate with my boys”, however even had the Newts taken the $200,000 and their story appeared in the National Enquirer, would it have really mattered? Their story wouldn’t have added up due to the limited amount of time they spent with MJ and they could have been easily discredited.

Because the Newts realized how difficult it would be to lie for money, this adds further evidence that the Chandlers, whose story was supposedly “full of holes” according to fans, had a solid case when we factor in the huge settlement they received from Jackson.

Note: All typos, incorrect grammar, and errors from the original book have been left uncorrected.


One July, in the early 8o’s, the Joe Jackson Production Company presented the Newtrons and the Joe Jackson dancers at the Roxy. It was a listening party/showcase for the Newtrons, produced by Edna Simms. That was night I, first, met Michael, Latoya, and Janet Jackson. They all appeared to be very nice kids, even though I found them to be a little strange.

I remember looking up at the balcony watching the Jacksons watching the Newtrons perform. They appeared to be really excited about the Newtrons’ singing and dancing. Michael was video-taping the show and watching, closely, all of their latest dance moves. One of their special dance moves was taught to them by their first cousin, Raymond Harris aka “Sauce,” in 1981, and it later became known worldwide as the “Moon Walk”. When I think about the things that surrounded this situation, I really feel that Joe and Michael Jackson had a strained relationship, even though their love was obvious. What made their relationship, to me, stay at a distance was that it kind of had a Humpty-Dumpty vibe. They could never really be put back together again.

People always looked at Joe Jackson as an outcast. He didn’t have a bodyguard because everybody thought no one in the Jackson family cared for him; but, that’s bull shit. Joe Jackson continued to call the shots on all of the Jackson family. I sat and watched him do it. Why do you think Frank DiLeo was no longer Michael’s manager? It’s because Joe Jackson and Bill Bray told Michael to fire him. That is all I can say about that matter, however, I just know how Joe Jackson played the game. A story was probably made up to get rid of Frank.

The more time I spent around the Jacksons, the more I began to feel they were unhappy people; not all of them, only some. The reason I say that is because I know, now, that the Jacksons never could help me and my family pursue our dream of reaching the joy of stardom. Not that they didn’t have the “keys to stardom,” but it was because the keys to stardom do not fit the lock of happiness. To have it all and to be unhappy can be a nightmare.

I stopped communicating with my special friend and his family for two reasons. The first: frankly, I was devastated when my son got himself killed while I was in prison, and the superstar and his family didn’t offer any assistance or support, other than a flower, to help my family bury him. The second reason: when my wife died the day after Michael was cleared of the same molestation charges that I had refused to accept money for to lie about him, I called Joe. Though I was terribly distraught and in so much pain, he told me that he was watching Jermaine on CNN concerning the Michael verdict, and he would get back to me. I never heard another word from anyone about Lynn’s death.

It wasn’t like we hadn’t become like one big, happy family. We spent a lot of time together as if we were.

Enough of that, however; back to the giving of the key of happiness and only to find out later that it would not fit the lock of happiness.

The next day around 6:3oam, after the show at the Roxy, Joe called me at the Sunset Hotel. His favorite name for me was my last name, “Newt.”

“Wake up, Newt,” Joe said. “Michael would like for you and the kids to come up to the ranch for lunch and dinner. Michael said he’s going to help the Newtrons. He’s going to produce a song on them. If it happens, it’s going to be smooth sailing.”

I got so excited, I asked Joe for directions to get there. After I wrote it all down, I hung up the phone and woke everybody up. I was screaming with excitement, because I loved the Jackson family for the good deeds they were “laying” on me and my family.

I was so excited I couldn’t believe that we were all going to Michael Jackson’s house. I was running around the hotel room like a little boy waiting to open a much-awaited Christmas gift. Everybody got up and got ready to go. As I stuck the directions Papa Joe gave me into my pocket, I began to feel that I was finally making headway and getting closer to the Jacksons.

My heart started racing, just thinking about hanging out with the greatest superstar in the world, at that time. Before I knew it, we were pulling up in front of the Jacksons’ home, where all kinds of people were camping and hanging out in front of the big, black security gate, just to get a glimpse of the superstar whenever he left the house to go to the store or on a trip.

The Newt family was the happiest family in the whole wide world, that day. We thought we were all on the road to success. Instead, it turned out to be like a sideshow; a circus.

At the time, we felt honored to be welcomed to the Jackson compound because, unlike the majority of people who couldn’t even make an appointment to see Michael and his family, we not only were going to meet them, but they would be treating us as if we were part of the family!

Again, let me get back on track to what actually occurred, that day; about how Michael befriended my children, including my son Ronnie Newt Jr.

Aside from me and my wife Lynn, Michael also befriended my other sons Bobby, Ron, my daughters Shavon and Misha, and my brother-in-law, Rob Crosby.

After we pulled up to the Jacksons’ security gate, I got off our bus and pressed the security button.”Who may I say is calling?” a security’s voice asked over the intercom.

“Ron Newt of the Newtrons’ family and a few friends,” I answered.

The gate slowly opened and a security guard walked out.

“Hi, my name is Bill Bray,” he said. He told us to park the bus outside of the gate, by a tree near their next-door neighbor’s house. Then, Bill Bray came onto the bus.

“Michael is anxious to see you guys. He’s been waiting for your arrival.”

The kids rushed inside the gate, excited to have some one-on-one time with Michael.

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It was a sunny July day and I knew it was going to be a day full of love and fun! As we approached the house, I found myself in awe over the way the house was built. It resembled a Disneyland castle, all trimmed in lights.

When we finally arrived at the front door, we stepped into a large, white, foyer with a marbled floor. As I looked around there was a spiral staircase that appeared that it just might lead to heaven. The foyer also had a crystal chandelier hanging over the heaven-bound, bound staircase all trimmed in gold.

There to greet us were Michael, Latoya, Janet, Joe and Mrs. Jackson, the nanny and Bubbles, the chimpanzee.

Remembering back when Michael and I initially met, at the time, he was very warm, sweet and, somewhat, strange. But, on this particular day, at the beginning of our visit, Michael appeared standoffish and aloof. He also seemed quiet and shy, and he had a habit of tilting his head so that his long, pretty, black hair would touch his thin, boyish shoulders.

I felt he did this because, in his childish way, it would make him invisible. Though he was indoors, he squinted his eyes, which was too bad, because his eyes were his best feature. His large, pretty dark eyes were widely spaced and they seemed to sparkle blue-black; like the last visible color of the evening sky.

At the time we visited The Jacksons, Michael was twenty-seven years old and hadn’t, yet, left home. During my interview with Michael, I asked a lot of questions.

“What did it feel like to be a superstar, loved by the whole world?” I asked, first.

“It’s scary,” Michael replied. “I like the feeling but it’s scary. I don’t trust many people, especially adults. I love kids because they can be trusted. They don’t know how to lie and cheat. Their hearts are pure. Adults lie and cheat.”

“What was it like growing up in the Jackson family?” I wanted to know.

“A bad nightmare that went away, after I became a teen.”

I asked him why he felt that way.

“My father never let me or my brothers be children or have a childhood life,” he responded. “He always treated us like working men. Do you know, I never call my father, Dad or Father. We all call him Joseph.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

Michael said Joe had never given him any fatherly love. He said Joe was real mean, selfish and heartless, at times, however, he did say he loved Joe.

I asked Michael if I could walk around and take pictures.

“Okay,” Michael said, “but usually, I never let anyone take pictures because people will use them to sell. I really don’t want people to see the inside of my house because people will rob you when they feel you have too much. But, go ahead. I guess it will be okay and, whatever you do here today, keep all of your memories and pictures in your scrapbooks, and do the same thing with the Newtrons’ stuff because you really don’t know if, one day, this stuff could mean something.”

I must say, at this point, that Michael Jackson did show some compassion by granting my wish and I went on my way with Lynn, who was my camera person for the day.

My next move was to get pictures of every room in the house, and I did. I’m guessing, but assume that three or four hours passed, and Michael was still playing with my kids on his trampoline that was built directly behind Joe’s and LaToya’s rooms. I could hear the kids screaming and having a great time with Michael as he jumped and ran around, screaming just like the kids.

Finally, Michael came into the house and found me. I was in the Hall of Fame room taking pictures as though I was a genuine newspaper person getting ready to write a book; which seems rather funny now, because I am writing a book.

Anyway, after Michael found me, he asked, “Do you really know how much your kids love you? They love the ground you walk on. They trust and believe in what you’re trying to do for them. I told the Newtrons that ‘practice makes perfect’ and to practice until 1998.”

I didn’t find that statement too funny because, it seemed to me, he had foreseen trouble. Michael also told them ‘they should practice at least twelve hours a day, like Joe did with him and his brothers. He said, ‘The only difference is that he and his brothers didn’t want to and my kids said they did.’

Michael also said my kids told him, ‘Our dad gave up a lot for us, but what he gave up, he would have to ask me for himself.’ That is why Michael came in search of me, because he was curious to find about out my lifestyle and why my kids love me so much.

My first thought was to put my mind at ease before Michael started asking questions. He wanted to know if he could call me ‘Dad’ like my kids. He said that he had never called anybody Dad before, not even Beny Gordy. Michael told me that he only said that he wished Beny Gordy was his Dad. So, when he asked me if he could call me Dad, that day, I replied, ”Yes, I would be honored.” So all that day … MICHAEL JACKSON CALLED ME DAD. He even wrote ‘To my Dad, Love Michael Jackson, 1998′ on the 8×10 photos he gave me.

It seems ironic that that this happened when he was 27 years old. Until this day, I often wonder if he foresaw my destiny, because nothing good has really happened for me since that day. Nothing has gone right since he wrote that crazy shit on that photo he gave to me.

I, sometimes, wonder if it was a case of Voodoo. Oh, well, maybe I am tripping again. But, who knows, only God or the devil who sees all things in this life.

So, getting back to what happened that day: I was in the Hall of Fame awards room, which was located next door to Michael’s movie theater. As I admired all of his Grammys, I thought about how, for so many years, I watched the Jacksons receive all those awards on my television at home in the Bay Area. I also thought about the time my four-year-old “Little China Doll” had been bitten by a black panther that I owned, and her face was disfigured. I, too, was in need of plastic surgery and, although Michael and Joe made a financial offer, they never came through. So we continued on with our lives, but with more than a serious degree of disappointment.

My kids followed Michael into the room and Michael carried Baby Jay around all day in his arms. I turned my attention to my kids as I talked with Michael and asked how was their day was going.

They were all excited. Ronnie Jr. said, “We have been playing with Louise the Llama. She likes to spit at people. She spit on Big Ron, so we all ran away from her and started playing with Bubbles the monkey, and the snake too. We forgot his name, but I think it was Joe.”

That day, for some reason I don’t know, Bubbles bit my son Jay on the arm, while he was holding him. I started to go get my gun and shoot Bubbles in his monkey ass, but Michael saw how upset I was and he slapped the shit out of Bubbles, with a quickness, before I could go grab my gun.

It was so weird to see Michael Jackson come out of the shell he’d always prefer to hide in, even if it was for a brief moment. Even Bubble’s reacted, because he never expected that kind of move by Mike. Bubbles was so afraid of Mike, that he jumped on his knees and put both hands together and started praying for his life.

Bubble’s bite only broke a little of Jay’s skin. I know Mike thought I was going to sue him, but it never entered my mind because I liked him and his father so much, at the time. I did, however, end up suing the next door neighbor, with Mike’s and Joe’s approvals, because the neighbor placed a water hose in my bus, letting the water run for nearly five hours while we were in the Jacksons’ home.

Mike and Joe didn’t like their neighbors because they made porno films in their backyard, and they were always complaining about Michael’s animals. I ended up making a $10,000 settlement with the neighbor, as opposed to them going to jail for vandalizing my bus. After the incident, I was allowed to park the yellow school bus on Michael’s property.

The ‘King of Pop’ got real relaxed around me after that incident. I guess he felt sorry for me because of the way the neighbors sabotaged my bus. Anyway, we got a lot closer after that. We started talking about everything; my life, his life, about girls, and the infamous, so-called ‘Billie Jean.’

Billie Jean was crazy as hell. They found her, one time, sleeping in Mike’s studio. How she got pass security, no one knows. Billy Jean was the woman, who claimed she delivered Michael’s first baby boy. She would always go up to Joe Jackson’s office on a Friday and end up getting arrested for disturbing the peace. She would curse at Joe Jackson, me, the security officers and anyone else, who might have been present.

I remember another time, while I was at Michael Jackson house, Billie Jean was standing outside behind the front security gate, screaming, “I want to see my husband and my babies’ dad.” She continually screamed Michael’s name as both Michael and I watched from inside on the security camera. She acted like such a fool that, again, she was taken to jail for disturbing the peace.

I, sometimes, wonder whatever became of Billy Jean, who was just another person looking for love, and got hurt by being star-struck; just like me. So, I don’t knock her for being real. It just reminds me of a whore wanting to choose a pimp, who doesn’t know her, and has stardom like Michael Jackson, but the only difference is a pimp is not scared to take the challenge; to let an unknown whore choose him because they ain’t scared.

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Mike asked me about my life on the streets and I was totally honest with him. I told him I was a ghetto superstar, pimp, who was well-respected throughout the country by the underworld.

“What is a pimp?” Michael asked.

“A pimp is only as good as his plot, and his plot is his girls. If you dick your plot, your game is shot;” meaning: if you sex your own whores, they won’t pay you again.

Mike was eager to know more, so I started spitting that pimp talk at him. His eyes lit up like brightly-burning candles, when I really started kicking it out at him and he kept on asking more and more questions.

“What did you wear,” he asked. “How many girls did you have at one given time?”

“I had more than seventeen hoes, at any given time,” I told him. “I was a ‘smooth criminal’ and when I appeared in the movie, “The Mack,” I was dressed in all white from head to toe. I told him to get the video from the video store, and I really think he did because, after that, he produced a video that he entitled, “Smooth Criminal,” and the principal character was dressed in all white, just as I had described to Michael about myself.

I asked Michael if I could see his room, which he kept locked, all the time. He informed me that, because he didn’t trust people, he didn’t allow anyone in his room. He did say, however, that he trusted me because I was real, and he handed me his key. My brother-in-law and I unlocked the door and, later on, Michael and the kids joined us for the tour of his room.

He let me put on his famous glove and the jacket he wore in the “Thriller” video. We took pictures together by the famous Mona Lisa pictures on the staircase leading to his wall bed. When he pulled off his black fedora hat and gave it to me, and I put on a pair of his shoes that were gold in color, I felt like I was in seventh heaven. He didn’t want me to tell Joe that he gave me one of his fedoras because Joe didn’t want me to have the shoes or the hat, for whatever reason I still don’t know.

Michael asked me, again, what it was like being a pimp out there on the streets. I told him that it wasn’t anything cute or slick about it. It was a job being a pimp. It was like being a road manager for a singing group.

He wanted to know how many girls I had. I told him that, at one given time, I had seventeen hoes. I was so big in the game and that was why they put me in “The Mack” with Frank Ward, the Ward Brothers, Fillmore Slim, and Bubba Hamp, who also happened to be the husband of Rose Stone. I told Michael, again, to rent the movie and he would see me at 980, 1029, 1030, and 1031 on the video counter.

After all of this fascinating talk, Michael said I could do as I pleased in his bedroom, which was decorated in all red and brown. I took a shower in his black marble bathroom that had a black and gold shower, and I was able to spend the night, whenever I was in L.A. I even sat on his royal toilet.

When I was in the bathroom, I noticed there were many legal prescription drugs in the medicine cabinet. While everyone else has something to say about Michael’s use of prescription drugs, I choose not to speak on the matter because some things are better not spoken.

What I did find interesting, however, was what Michael had written with a black marker on his king-sized mirror above his face bowl. It read: ‘My next sales of records will gross one hundred million dollars on the LP.”

Again, it’s so funny to me that day I was given the key to the gate of happiness, I would later find out that the lock had been changed.

To end this chapter on the only man I’ve ever held as an idol in this world, other than myself, here are my heart-felt opinions about him. No, I don’t think that Michael Jackson was gay. Shy, yes. Soft- spoken, yes. In fact, if he had ever been in a penitentiary, he probably would have gotten turned out because of his soft voice and mannerisms.

I do believe Mike had a skin peel because, at the time I was there, his skin was peeling. I know a skin peel when I see one because, at one time, Mike and I had the same dermatologist, Dr. Keith in Inglewood.

I had a skin peel and nose and lip changes from people who were recommended by Michael, as was the plastic surgery that was required when my four-year-old daughter was bitten by my pet black panther. As a result, I had to kill the panther for turning on my daughter.

I would have to say the most troubling thing I was ever confronted with was when the National Enquirer called me to talk to me about Michael Jackson tampering with little boys. I have a tape recording and contract of the meeting I had with the National Enquirer, where they tried to convince me that Michael may have attempted to tamper with my own children. I knew, without a doubt, that what they were suggesting was bullshit as soon as the tabloid’s Jim Mitteage started talking. I knew his only purpose for being in the meeting was to destroy Michael’s career and not to help him like me and my kids had wanted. That’s the only reason I agreed to having the meeting, to tell the world that Michael Jackson never tried anything inappropriate with my boys, when they spent the night at his house.

My sons spent many summer vacations at Michael Jackson’s house throughout the years by themselves and they told me Michael was always nice and respectful to them. I also spent nights there and I never saw anything funny going on or heard anything as crazy as what Michael was being accused of. There was no foul play that I can speak on, even though I was offered $200,000 by the National Enquirer and Star magazines for the stories they wanted to tell. I turned them down because they weren’t looking for the truth. Lies were what sold papers.

I had finally found honor in my old pimp heart. Damn, I couldn’t be that bad of a person. I was dead broke, when I was asked to conspire against Michael Jackson, and I also just gotten out of the federal pen with a broken heart, following my son getting himself killed.

One of the reasons I decided to write this book was so I could finally set the record straight on how I didn’t appreciate the late, self-centered, attorney Johnnie L. Cochran belittled my real role and contribution in the multi-million-dollar child molestation, civil lawsuit against Michael Jackson. In an article for Ebony magazine, he was unappreciative and inconsiderate. All he said about me in the article was how I came to him with a contract, that I was broke, but didn’t cross Mike. He didn’t even have the decency to mention my name or to thank me.

Michael Jackson ended up settling with his accuser for $40M, instead of $100M. When I think about it, I will always believe that my taking the National Enquirer contract down to Johnnie Cochran shows that they were really out to get Michael, at all costs, even if their story was based on nothing but lies.

You’re probably wondering how I got involved, in the first place? Well, a so-called friend saw my photo album and asked me if I knew what I had in my hand.

I said, “Yes, I know that it’s something that could help Michael’s reputation.”

My kids and I could testify that Michael was not a child molester, but when the Enquirer contact got to San Francisco, he was looking for a major scandal to break on Michael; not something that would clear him. That made me angty so, a few weeks later, I left and went to see Johnnie Cochran. That self-centered rascal probably didn’t even tell Michael that I refused to cooperate with those “ditty rags” that wanted me to sell my soul for the sake of selling their cheap-ass weekly papers.If, on the other hand, Johnnie Cochran did tell Michael about

If, on the other hand, Johnnie Cochran did tell Michael about my good deed, then my friend, the superstar, needed a reality check, too.

Even though I was an ex-criminal, I paid my dues for seven years in every prison in the state of California, including federal prison, too, and I survived. I have spent time in well over thirty prisons just because I was the famed ‘Prince Diamond of the Player world.’ Now what if I had returned home and judged Michael Jackson, just because they said he was guilty, based on
hearsay, would I have been wrong to have joined the band wagon? I don’t think so! So, to make a long story short, anybody can be called a criminal, even if they don’t go to jail. Therefore, all I’m saying is, “Never judge someone without verifying the real story.”

Johnnie Cochran had me come down to Los Angeles, in person, on behalf of his client. I paid $6oo to come and spend a day in order to help Michael Jackson out, but Johnnie only reimbursed me $280. How he came up with that figure, only he knew and to add insult to injury, I never received as much as a simple ‘Thank You’ note. Now, that was fucked up!

I was aware of the fact that Johnnie Cochran had a money fetish and I remember the time that I dealt with him after escaping from state prison. This “wanted man” gave that rascal a $5,000 retainer fee and learned a valuable lesson. He charged me $1,500 for making two phone calls to the FBI in 1990. That was the highest telephone bill I have ever had to pay in my entire life; for TWO phone calls.

Johnnie wanted to keep the total retainer fee, but with him being aware of my lifestyle, the people I knew in prison, and on the streets of San Francisco and Los Angeles, persuaded Johnnie to give back to the community (smile-me).

If Michael had ever gotten the opportunity to read this book, he would know I was a real straight up kind of guy, who had a lot of respect for him then and even now that he is gone.