The 'Neverland Valley-Welcome" sign depicts a little boy, bending
over to talk to a troll. Opera wafted on the air. Bronze statues of
boys and girls dotted the gardens and falls, and an ornate gazebo
offered a shady spot to enjoy the stunning tableau. Two trains
carried visitors about. Five pink flamingos on an island in the
stream coolly eyed onlookers. Unescorted pre-teen boys scampered
everywhere.
"Peter Pan" was playing at the packed, eighty-seat,
seven-thousand-square-foot theatre. Popcorn and drinks were dished
up gratis to mobs at the concession stand in the entry. On the
screen, Captain Hook had ten wide-eyed children bound and gagged,
about to be fed to the crocodile. Nearby, amid the rides, two sound
stages stood ready to rock. A band was taking a break. "Beat It"
was thumping loudly from hidden speakers. A circus-like tent houses
the bumper cars, where jubilant lads, faces flushed with
excitement, rammed each other's cars with enthusiasm.
I freely admitted, there was no doubt that allegations of child
molestation had hurt Jackson in this community. Where wouldn't such
charges resonate? Sodom and Gomorrah?
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