Whitney & Bobbi Kristina

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Whitney & Bobbi Kristina Page 21

by Ian Halperin


  Whitney had signed on with Disney in 1996 to produce and costar in an adaptation of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s version of Cinderella, a musical fantasy. Whitney had originally planned to play Cinderella but decided that, at thirty-three, she was too old to pull it off. She approached Brandy to play the part, and she agreed, on the condition that Whitney, her “idol,” play the fairy godmother. The new role allowed Whitney to deliver some tour de force musical numbers, including two duets with the rising young star in the title role.

  When the TV movie aired on television in November 1997, it once again proved the drawing power of the superstar singer turned actress, attracting a massive audience, the most watched program of the week.

  A month earlier, however, another TV production in which she was involved had proved something less of a success. In October, HBO had aired a live concert special of Whitney from Washington DC’s Constitution Hall as a benefit for the Children’s Defense Fund. A number of onlookers had observed that she appeared stoned throughout the concert.

  Reviewing the special, Entertainment Weekly observed, “Clearly something was wrong during Houston’s Oct. 5 live HBO concert, in which she strained to sing her tunes, reeled off a random, bewildering medley of tributes to dead celebrities—including the Notorious B.I.G. and Princess Diana—and dripped more flop sweat than Nixon.” Another reviewer called the performance “a tape-delayed near-death experience.”

  Reports had started to surface that Whitney was showing up late nearly every day to the set of Cinderella and was displaying erratic behavior.

  “She shows up on her own time, she’s rude, she doesn’t come to rehearsal,” a producer revealed. “It saddens me that a person who has everything in the world going for her is screwing it up.” And then a week before the TV musical aired, Whitney went on the talk show circuit to promote the upcoming broadcast.

  On October 30—the first day of the crucial November sweeps period—she had been scheduled to guest on Rosie O’Donnell’s popular daytime show, a heavily anticipated appearance that O’Donnell had been hyping all week. But forty-five minutes before the show’s scheduled taping time, a rep called to inform the producers that Whitney would not appear, citing “stomach flu.” Said to be apoplectic, the host proceeded to inform her audience, “Whitney’s not here. She’s ill. I hope she’s very ill.” To make matters worse, Whitney appeared to have made a miraculous recovery, because she was seen that afternoon tagging along with Bobby to his taped appearance on the Late Show with David Letterman.

  By this time, Bobby’s own career was in a tailspin. His latest album, Forever, had tanked commercially, and Whitney had been repeatedly forced to bail him out; first, when the bank foreclosed on his Atlanta mansion, and then when the IRS froze his assets because he owed millions in back taxes. Like his wife, Bobby had his sights set on a film career and had appeared in a small role in 1989’s Ghostbusters 2. He had signed on in the role of Powerline in Disney’s The Goofy Movie and had already laid down some numbers for the soundtrack. But the studio couldn’t get insurance because of the singer’s increasingly evident drug problems and he was quietly dropped from the cast.

  At the beginning of 1998, Bobby was sentenced to five days in county jail stemming from the 1996 DUI incident in Hollywood, Florida, which he had appealed. In addition to the jail sentence, his driver’s license was suspended, he was placed on a year’s probation, and forced to spend thirty days in a residential drug and alcohol treatment center.

  A few months later, he was taken into custody at the Beverly Hills Hotel and charged with sexual battery—defined as “unlawful touching for the purpose of sexual arousal”—following a complaint by an unidentified woman about an incident that happened at the hotel swimming pool. He posted a bond of $2,778 and was released, but the charge was later dropped.

  “I wouldn’t hurt nobody. I wouldn’t touch nobody,” Bobby told the Associated Press following his release.

  Whitney’s movie offers had slowed to a snail’s pace after the lackluster box office performance of The Preacher’s Wife. Other than a duet with Mariah Carey for the soundtrack of Prince of Egypt, her once-promising film career had stalled, so it was back to the studio to record her long-anticipated fourth album and her first in almost eight years that wasn’t a soundtrack. Once again, Whitney and Clive Davis were at the helm. When My Love Is Your Love was released in November 1998, however, the commercial reception proved less than enthusiastic. It entered the Billboard charts at number thirteen and never went any higher, although it did enjoy more success in Europe than in the United States and its single, “Heartbreak Hotel,” became a monster hit on the R&B charts. Still, the disappointing sales were conspicuous and not a good career harbinger.

  The critics, however, were impressed and lavished praise on an effort that many found harder-edged and more authentic than her previous recordings. Rolling Stone called it “easily her most consistent album ever—in fact, it’s her first consistent album.” Many critics took note of her maturing voice, which may have lost an octave or so since the peak of her career but was more “fully developed,” according to the New York Times review.

  Looking back, the most poignant moment on the album was at the top of the title track when the voice of five-year-old Bobbi Kristina is heard interjecting, “Sing, Mommy.” Whitney would later describe how her daughter’s voice came to be included on the track.

  “We were in the studio with [producer Wyclef Jean], and she just said, ‘Mommy, I want to sing,’ ” she told a reporter. “Wyclef was quiet for a minute, and then nodded his head and said, ‘That can work.’ ”

  Bobbi would later join her mother onstage during some of the tour dates singing some of the lyrics.

  Asked by the Los Angeles Times whether she was grooming her young daughter to follow in her footsteps, Whitney proudly replied, “She wants to do it. I would love to say to you that it looks like she’s gonna be a lawyer or a pediatrician or a ballet dancer. But it’s none of those. You can always tell a singer by the way they hold a microphone, and she holds that mike with confidence. She’s a little diva-in-training. If there’s ever gonna be another me, it’s gonna be Bobbi Kris. There ain’t gonna be no more after that.”

  From what the world learned later, growing up in the household of Whitney and Bobby during this period must have been very confusing for the young child, although she was usually looked after by nannies and by Whitney’s Auntie Bae, so she was sheltered from both parents’ increasingly erratic lifestyles. Publicly, both parents still professed domestic bliss at every opportunity and indicated that their first priority was their young daughter.

  In an interview with the women’s magazine Redbook, Whitney seemed particularly spirited when talking about her life as a mother, although she expressed frustration about periods of long separation from Bobbi while on the road.

  Being away from my child for weeks at a time is the tough part for me—unlike other professions where it might be a couple of days. That kills me. It just kills me. I was just at a meeting with her teacher because I had taken Krissi out of school so much. I missed her when I was away. And the teacher said, ‘She can’t be taken out anymore. She has to catch up to the other children. And if you keep taking her out of school she won’t be able to.’ But she and I need each other. Krissi will call me and say, ‘Mama, I miss you.’ And that does it. That does me in. I say, ‘Okay, I am going to send for you tomorrow.’ I am weak like that.

  Asked whether she considered herself a protective mother, she was unequivocal. “Yes. I would kill for Krissi. I know that I could really kill for my daughter. I know because I’m living for her, so I’m fierce when it comes down to it. And I feel the same about my husband.”

  On the subject of Bobby, she was forced to address the increasingly loud media speculation about the state of their marriage, which included multiple reports about screaming matches and other flare-ups.

  I don’t know anybody who hasn’t gone through ups and downs in a marriage. It just
so happens that Bobby and I have done it in public. The first five years of marriage are rough—if you can get past them you’re doing good. But during those years it was rough. We are two very famous people. I had my own money and my own career. It can be tough on a very strong male who has his own success to be with a woman who has hers, too.

  In contrast to the liner notes of her first albums, which contained lavish praise for her friend Robyn, including a declaration on Whitney that “I love you,” her new album simply listed Robyn as part of the “production coordination” team. In contrast, she gushes thanks to Bobby. “You were meant for me. Nothing can come between this love.”

  Observers noticed that Whitney’s old friend—once inseparable from her—was spending less and less time by her side. Yet Robyn still played an active role in the singer’s career and was an integral part of each artistic project, including day-to-day involvement as a producer of Cinderella. But since Bobby entered the picture, her interaction with Whitney appeared to shift from the personal to the political. Her title was no longer executive assistant but “creative director” at Nippy inc. Among her projects was founding Whitney’s music label, Better Place Records, which saw her taking an active role in the career of musicians other than Whitney, including the short-lived all-female quintet Sunday.

  As I reviewed behind-the-scenes footage of the two friends working together in the early days and the ease with which Robyn could calm Whitney and keep her grounded while focusing on the task at hand, I can’t help but think Robyn’s steadying influence was just what Whitney could have used as she began her personal descent during this period.

  In a rare interview with a European magazine, Robyn described the shift in their long-standing relationship and hinted that they were no longer even friends, explaining,

  The foundation that we had years ago, the friendship that we shared, is pretty much back there in the past. Now it’s business. Those of us who work with her have to change to accommodate what happens. I would say that, as a person, Whitney has pretty much stayed the same. I think that it’s the people around her, myself included, who have had to make the change to adjust to the fact that she is now so famous, so in demand . . . A lot of times you get your feelings hurt. I may look at her in a room and think, ‘That was my best friend.’ None of us around her, not her mother or father or me, could be to her what a husband can be. In a marriage it seems to me that it is always the woman who has to do more—commit herself more, devote herself, always be there. And Whitney is going to be that kind of wife: she’s very traditional. She is not high-handed or temperamental or arrogant, but although she walks softly, she carries an invisible stick. If you back her up against a wall, you will be sorry. In the nicest way, she will make you feel (very small).

  As the new millennium dawned, Whitney was at a very different crossroads than she had been a decade earlier when her life and career were on an upward spiral. Now it appeared to both the public and those around her that she was heading straight down.

  No sooner had the world dodged the long-feared Y2K virus than the couple faced a catastrophe of their own. After a Hawaiian vacation on the Big Island in early January, Whitney was passing through security with Bobby at Kona International Airport, when a search of her carry-on luggage found two Baggies of marijuana and three half-smoked joints—more than fifteen grams in all. The guards had no authority to detain passengers, but they immediately confiscated her bag and called the local law enforcement authorities.

  Rather than wait, the couple simply boarded the plane. By the time police arrived, they were taxiing down the runway and were allowed to take off. Authorities later filed a petty misdemeanor charge against Whitney, which could have carried a thirty-day jail sentence, but the charges were eventually dropped amid accusations of favoritism and VIP treatment.

  “There was no way in hell I was going to hang around and let those rent-a-cops put me in jail over this bullshit,” she was reported to have said.

  Still, it was one more headline linking the couple to drug use. Before long, her antics were the fodder for comedians and late-night talk show hosts.

  At the Grammy Awards ceremony in Los Angeles the following month, Rosie O’Donnell was the host and Whitney was scheduled to perform. Introducing Whitney, she made a veiled reference to the Hawaiian bust when she referenced the Doobie Brothers, then said, “Our next performer is a huge fan of the doobies. What can I say but Maui Wowie.”

  In early March, Whitney pulled out of performing at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony, citing “throat problems.” Three weeks later, she had been scheduled to perform at the Oscars in a medley with Garth Brooks, Ray Charles, Isaac Hayes, Queen Latifah, and her cousin Dionne Warwick. But only forty-eight hours before the telecast, she was quietly removed from the number. The official excuse was again “throat trouble,” the same reason she had given several times the previous year when she canceled tour performances. It later emerged that during rehearsals, she kept flubbing the lines to the song she was supposed to sing, “Over the Rainbow.” Somebody who attended auditions told People, “She just kind of moved her mouth a little bit.” Another revealed, “She missed her entire cue.” A TV producer told the magazine the fiasco was indicative of Whitney’s growing reputation in the industry. “When this Oscar thing happened, it did not surprise me,” he told the magazine. “She has a reputation for being a flake and no-showing, and it’s dangerous to book her because until she walks on that stage, there’s no guarantee she’s going to show up.” New York Post columnist Liz Smith described her performance at rehearsals as “discombobulated.” The legendary songwriter Burt Bacharach, who served as Oscar music director that year and reportedly fired her from the broadcast, observed, “Whitney’s chronic condition is very sad.”

  A week later, Nathan Lane was hosting a Broadway Cares benefit tribute to Elton John, when he turned to his cohost Christine Baranski and said, “Thanks so much for filling in at the last minute for Whitney Houston.” Baranski grabbed the mike and mimed snorting cocaine.

  It was clear that at least one of Whitney’s secrets was out, although she and her handlers went to great lengths to deny she had a problem. Her mother in particular was now often front and center defending her daughter from the growing accusations.

  “It’s not easy,” Cissy told a reporter. “Everyone is innocent until proven guilty. It’s difficult for a mother as visible as I am. With God, I’ve learned to handle most things. They build you up to tear you down. You really have to hold on to God. That’s the only thing that gets me through and the only thing that will get her through.”

  For her part, Whitney was still portraying herself and her husband as a normal couple who were trying to maintain a regular family life. In the spring, they took Bobbi on a Disney cruise. “I don’t hang out,” Whitney told BET Weekend magazine. “I don’t go to clubs. I like to go shopping. I’m a homebody. I like to stay home. I play with my daughter. She’s my best friend. I’m a hands-on mother. Krissi knows I have the final word. I try to help Krissi to understand if the response was no, why the answer was no. I’m a mother who knows how to say no.”

  Bobbi was now seven years old and was attending an exclusive private school, Wardlaw-Hartridge, in Edison, New Jersey, under an assumed name so as not to receive any unwanted attention.

  With the whispers growing into full-fledged media accusations about her mother’s drug use, Whitney appeared especially concerned with sheltering Bobbi from the fallout.

  “I have to protect my daughter, so it’s not funny,” she told Redbook. “She has to go to school with kids whose parents read those magazines. I am sure the children hear about it and I have to deal with what she hears.”

  Asked if Bobbi had ever brought up the rumors, she responded, “Krissi knows the truth. She knows what happens in this household. If she hears anything she can say, ‘This is not my daddy, this is not my mommy.’ We are very straight up with her, saying, ‘You are going to hear a lot of stuff in your life a
bout Mom and Dad. Anything you have any doubts about, anything you want to know, ask us, we will tell you.’ ”

  But it was getting increasingly difficult for Whitney to deny she had a problem, especially since it was the mainstream media rather than the tabloids that was feasting on her difficulties.

  In May, Jane magazine ran a cover story about the singer that revealed she showed up for a photo shoot four hours late. The writer revealed that observers present at the shoot noted that when she did show up, she exhibited bizarre behavior, and that she was “extremely unfocused, had trouble keeping her eyes open and kept singing and playing an imaginary piano.” Whitney’s excuse for her lateness was a trip to the dentist to repair a cracked tooth.

  There had been a lot of excuses lately.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  On January 29, two days before she was found in the bathtub, Bobbi took to social media, as was her habit. She started the day by tweeting a photo to a page called “Bitch Problems,” where females like to complain about problems in their love life. The photo showed a man lying on top of a smiling woman, kissing her in a sensuous pose. She added the caption, directed to Nick’s Twitter account: “This would be perfect right now.”

  A little while later, she retweeted a post from one of her favorite sites, Fitness Motivator.

  “I get hit, I get up. I get hit, I get up. I get hit, I get up. Get knocked down seven times, get up 8.”

  Later that day, she posted a tweet with just three words in large letters:

  “On My Own.”

  Whatever that meant, she didn’t appear to be in any distress, because a little while later she posted two shots of the actor Jake Gyllenhaal to a site called “Pictures for Girls,” on which women often post beefcake shots of men they fantasize about.

 

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