The Whitney I Knew (23 page)

But in Whitney's case, even great mentoring was not enough to put the brakes on the media machine that cranked into high gear once her talent was heard. Not everyone is a Whitney-type talent. But the machine seeks to make everyone believe that so-and-so is the next Whitney or Celine or whatever megastar you want to plug into the equation.

Even though loving friends and family mentored Whitney, she
still fell victim to the
speed
of fame. Her meteoric rise shattered her youthful reality. What can ready a person for the immense loneliness of fame at an age when you should be going to college football games and hanging out with friends? Suddenly Whitney was flying all over the world and appearing all over the television—and it never stopped. Literally.

When my phone would ring at 1 a.m., I knew it was Whitney wanting to talk. She was reaching for some semblance of normalcy, a break from the hyperreality she had to endure.

Is that what young people desire? To be on a jet headed to London, when all their friends are laughing and enjoying the things in life that take time—like relationships and education and a mature faith? While Whitney's friends were going to school and getting married and working 9-to-5 jobs, Whitney was signing business deals that dictated her life.

People say, “Well, if it got so bad, why didn't she just stop singing?” Because when you sign a contract, it runs your life. You are obligated to produce a certain amount of records and to support your records with touring. If you don't produce, you could get sued. That's a lot of pressure for a twenty-something girl from Jersey who a few years prior was delighted just to sing in church.

To put some real skin on this, two years ago I went to the Grammys. CeCe and I were nominated. I ended up going to a couple of parties before the awards ceremony, but didn't attend the actual event; neither did CeCe. (A friend called to tell me we'd won.) Prior to the event, however, I was headed to my hotel lobby. I hopped in an elevator with Bobbi Kristina. There she was, a beautiful teenager all dressed up and ready to hit the town.

“Do you like my dress?” she asked.

“Yes, but where's the rest of it?” I responded.

She knew it was a bit short and tried to pull it down.

“I know, Uncle BeBe, I know.”

I love that girl—she's a beautiful young woman and is going to do great things. But my heart goes out to her and the kids like her who see the world of the superstar and want to emulate it and even pursue it. Bobbi Kristina has a great head on her shoulders and right now is still dealing with a stunning loss. But when I think of my own kids and Bobbi Kris, my siblings' kids and the kids out there reading this book or watching all the music videos, I just want them to ease off the pedal. Slow down. Live a little. Be a kid for a few years.

Whitney would tell young people that, yes, the future rests in your hearts—the world will go forward with you—but don't be in a rush to get to what lies ahead. Whitney had to catch up to the speed of fame. She had to make the transition from being a “person” to being a “personality,” as she once put it to
Rolling Stone
. Suddenly she wasn't a young woman with thoughts and feelings; she was a transaction, a business, a client.

When you see yourself being bought and sold—when you find out that record executives are making back-alley deals, pawning your wares like you're a traded commodity—something happens. You begin viewing yourself as someone that is beyond “the real.” Not in a prideful way necessarily, but in a way that removes you from the world that everyone else lives in.

Whitney would tell you, the young and aspiring artist, to be careful not to be duped by what you think the entertainment industry wants. Living by their expectations only leads to hurt and emptiness. Don't be naïve and think the music or movie worlds desire intimate relationships with their talent. At best, those industries have a
platonic relationship with the artists. If you let your heart be open to what the industry wants, it will get twisted.

Take your time. Take your time.

Second, learn to be selective
.

I grew up eating Jif peanut butter. I still remember their commercials: “Choosy Moms Choose Jif.”

When success in the biz comes, it inevitably opens up doors that you never thought you'd be able to walk through. Suddenly those doors are swung wide open. But just because the doors of opportunity swing open, doesn't mean you have to walk through them. Whitney eventually learned how to say no to people who wanted things from her. I can't stress how important it is to learn how to use that little word: no. Go ahead, say it—no. There is wisdom in no.

There's a proverb that says, “The wisdom of the wise keeps life on track; the foolishness of fools lands them in the ditch.” No one wants to end up in a ditch. And we won't if we learn how to discern life as it comes our way. We need to be like the choosy moms—we need to develop some standards. We need to know that there are some things we just won't do. And when I say “we,” I don't just mean the young people who long for fame. I mean, we the parents, we the gatekeepers in the industry, we the extended family members. We can't expect a young person to make the tough decisions on their own. We need to give them permission to be kids, both innocent and wise.

Third, seek wise advice
.

It all starts with “the grab”—a cute little song with a great hook. It goes viral on YouTube. Then it's a single on an album. Then the album explodes and sells millions of copies. But the cute song is not enough. What's next? What's the next level? Well of course, we need to push the envelope and show the young star coming of age—understanding their sexuality and expressing it all over the stage, right?

Give me a break. The entertainment industry specializes in stripping young talent of its innocence. Strategists whisper, “We need to keep the buzz going. You need to do _____________.” Young entertainers receive advice from all kinds of people telling them to perpetuate the momentum. If they do, it will produce more sales and more money, and the fame begins to steamroll. Have we no shame that we would tell young people to do whatever it takes to get a media grab?

We look at Britney Spears, who started out as a Mouseketeer on the Disney channel, and we shake our heads. “That girl just went off the tracks.” Remember when she shaved her head and was caught by the paparazzi in some not-too-flattering poses in public? We write off someone like Britney, saying she's not a good person; she's volatile. But what do we expect from these young ladies who were thrust into fame so quickly? Britney had incredible success early in her career (and she is still successful). But the next thing we knew, she was expressing
all
of her sexuality in her music and videos. The innocence lingered for the briefest of moments but eventually gave way to inappropriate behavior.

Here's my question to the entertainment industry about the young stars on the rise: Is it ever enough? Do we always have to
push things to the next level? Can't we help out these young people by giving them sound advice about life and the rigors of the business? Can't we begin programs of accountability while these young people tour the world?

As a father of two talented teenagers, my prayer for them is that they will encounter people along the path of life that will take a genuine interest in them as human beings—as people. Whether they pursue the performing arts or robotics, I don't care. What I do care about is that they enter into real life with their eyes wide open, and that those who have gone before them will come alongside them and show them the pathway to success, not destruction.

I think wisdom gets a bad reputation. Most people think you gain wisdom by learning from failure. But wisdom can keep us from making the mistakes that can hurt us in the first place. The wise man learns from the one who's fallen
and
when he falls on his own.

Whitney and I both experienced death in our lives. Whitney lost her father in 2003. At the time, there were some fractures in their relationship. For years her father managed her affairs, but that ended abruptly. Before he died, however, they reconciled their differences, and through forgiveness, she learned how to let go of whatever was between them.

She had the freedom to talk with me about whatever was on her mind. If she needed to talk crazy or even foolishly, there was room for that. In that freedom, she shared with me about some of the decisions he made that she didn't agree with, but she also remembered his decisions that made her life better. At some point, Whitney became more independent and wanted to make her own choices. All it takes is one flare-up, one confrontation of wills between daughter and father, to spark a separation.

She didn't want, and she thought she didn't need, fatherly advice from a management point of view. Did she want the availability of her father as a father? Yes. She wanted to be able to go to him for fatherly advice, but the time for management advice came to an end.

She shared how difficult it was for her to let him go as her manager—something the outside world didn't hear. All the world saw was their separation. Whitney knew I could relate because my brothers endured the same thing: they also had to let our father go as their manager.

When Whitney and I saw a new artist hit the scene with a parent as their manager, we knew it was a ticking bomb. That was a fun topic to discuss, because we had both lived through it. Some advice to young artists: don't hire your mom or dad to be your manager; chances are, it won't end well.

I know that at the time it seems great—a “the family's all here” bonanza. But seriously, it places an inordinate strain on the relationship, and in extreme cases, it can cause irreparable damage. For Whitney and her father, he became offended when she wanted to make decisions on her own. I can see it now from a father's point of view. I can understand her dad feeling slighted. But the best thing, in my opinion—and it was Whitney's opinion as well—is to love your family by not hiring them.

You know what I used to do, Diane? I would close my eyes . . . and I'd sing. I was so afraid when I'd sing. Then when I would open my eyes, the people would be what we call “Holy Ghost fired out.” They would be in such a spirit of praise, I think I knew then that it was an infectious thing that God had given me.
Whitney to Diane Sawyer