FAIRHOPE, Ala. — Some say Michael Jackson was at the peak of his recording career from the early ’80s to the mid-’90s, the era that brought about hit albums such as “Thriller” and “Bad.” Fairhope resident Brad Sundberg remembers those days well, because he was more than a fly on the wall when some of Jackson’s best-selling albums were recorded.

Sundberg was then a fixture in the Los Angeles recording industry, serving as technical director for a number of albums produced at Westlake Audio, where Jackson, Barbra Streisand and others cut tracks. It was there he met Jackson and formed a 20-year friendship.

Sundberg was in the studio when “Bad,” “Dangerous,” “HIStory, Vol. 1” and “Blood On The Dance Floor” were laid on tape. It was his job to make sure everything there, from microphones to speakers, were in the correct place, and he was responsible for keeping the recording artists happy and comfortable while they were in-house.

“It really wasn’t the Elephant Man circus (like) people might think,” Sundberg said.

Jackson, who died suddenly at age 50 on June 25, was working on Captain EO for Disneyland in Anaheim, Calif. and EPCOT Center in Orlando, Fla. at the time they met. Sundberg said the entertainer was fresh off the Victory Tour, the “Thriller” album and his dominance of MTV, and he was back in the studio.

The Baldwin County native (born in Foley in 1963) likely passed Jackson in the hallway on their first encounter, but Sundberg said he can no longer remember the details. He called Jackson “always warm, yet shy,” noting it took time for him to build trust.

“I was fortunate enough to meet Bruce Swedien, who engineered ‘Off the Wall’ and ‘Thriller,’” he said, adding he also met recording artist and music producer Quincy Jones at the same time. Sundberg had just completed coursework that prepared him to enter the industry, where he got his start by working on commercial jingles for Levi’s jeans, Taco Bell and McDonald’s.

Sundberg said, “Early in 1986 the team moved into Westlake Studio D in Hollywood to record the ‘Bad’ album, and welcomed me in. I worked other sessions during the day, but at night I was invited to sit in and learn. Eventually I worked my way up to technical director for the team, and the trust was solidified. It was during this time that Michael nicknamed me ‘Really Really Brad,’ a twist on the chorus, ‘Bad, Bad, Really Really Bad.’”

Jackson could utter 30 sentences with just one glance, Sundberg said, signaling whether the recording was going as he liked, or whether adjustments needed to be made. He watched Jackson write many songs, and called the process “amazing.” Sundberg said Jackson told him the music and lyrics were “gifts from God.”

He said Jackson could hear the entire song in his head before the team could get tape on the machines. He would sometimes sing the drum, bass, percussion and keyboard parts on separate tracks, after which musicians were brought in to replace those demo tracks.

“We had a healthy, fun, working relationship,” Sundberg said, noting Jackson was a perfectionist when it came to his music. “He would show up (in the studio) a minimum of two hours early on vocal days and sing scales with (his voice coach) Seth (Riggs) at the grand piano. I’d worked with a lot of flaky artists by then, and you just don’t see that. He was a professional, and he expected those around him to be professional in the studio environment.”

But Jackson was also well known as a prankster, he said, and family was very important to him. Sundberg said, “He has a great camaraderie with his brothers and sisters, but there was not a lot of time for him to be a kid.”

Fridays were always family days when Jackson recorded, and Sundberg’s wife and oldest daughter would sometimes sit in on sessions.

Sundberg worked alongside Swedien for nearly a decade. He said, “Working with Michael and those other people is about building a trust. You’re not going to leave them and go babbling to some tabloid. You earn your position as time goes on.”

Jackson typically drove himself to the studio, but was not a great driver, Sundberg said. His transportation for a while was a dented and scraped Ford Bronco. More than once the singer called the studio to say he would be late after being in a fender-bender.

Jackson was intensely curious about “normal life,” according to Sundberg. He once asked about Christmas, and couldn’t understand how children could wait until Christmas morning to open the gifts. Jackson was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness, so Christmas was not celebrated by the family.

Sundberg worked with Jackson in preparation for the “Bad” tour in 1988, as well as countless music videos, the “HIStory” tour, the “Moonwalker” project and various other efforts.

Jackson’s studio projects often took 10-14 months to complete, and the job sometimes meant spending 110 hours a week at work, especially when the audio mixing process began. That left little time for family.

“I started having to have a life,” he said. “I couldn’t be a studio rat all the time. Studio engineers have a high divorce rate.”

Sundberg left Swedien’s team in 1994 in order to spend more time at home, and founded BSUN Media Systems, a company involved in the design and installation of custom home entertainment solutions, such as home theaters, whole-house music and home automation systems.

He also worked with Jackson in that capacity, creating sound systems for the musician’s homes, including Neverland Valley Ranch, where he placed music throughout the compound — on the carnival rides, in other outdoor areas and inside the main house. Some speakers were disguised as rocks, while others hung in trees resembled birdhouses.

In addition to Jackson, Sundberg’s client list included Madonna, Quincy Jones, Tom Cruise, Johnny Mathis, Sela Ward, Elizabeth Taylor, Will Smith, Norman Lear and Trump Tower in New York City.

He was making a nice living, but was called back to the recording team when the 1994 Northridge earthquake struck. Jackson was in the studio again, recording “HIStory.”

“Michael felt the quake and it freaked him out,” Sundberg said. “He said, ‘Get me out of L.A!,’ so they moved the project to New York. Bruce called and said, ‘You’ve worked with us. You know what Michael likes.’” Sundberg signed on to the project immediately.

He said, “I was honored. I was humbled. Matt Forger (another technical director who worked with Jackson) and I took over The Hit Factory (a then-prolific New York recording studio) and set it up for Mike.”

That included placing photos on the wall where Jackson preferred them, a quirk not uncommon in the entertainment industry. But at some point, Jackson went beyond just existing as the eccentric artist he was known to be.

Sundberg said the recording team was aware Jackson’s facial features and skin color were changing.

“I don’t pretend to know why he went so radical in altering his looks,” he said. “I don’t care. I knew him. I knew his heart.”

Asked about the child molestation charges Jackson faced four years ago, and the other accusations made but never brought to trial, Sundberg said he doesn’t believe they had merit.

“There’s a huge difference between loving kids and wanting to be around kids and any level of sexuality,” he said. “Did he make some mistakes in judgment? Absolutely. But, he was not the reclusive monster he was made out to be.”

Hillary Clinton talked about early morning phone calls during the 2008 presidential campaign, but Sundberg actually fielded them. He said, “If the phone rang at two in the morning, we knew it was a family emergency or Michael calling.” The “King of Pop” would often call Sundberg’s home to discuss new audio installations for another ride he planned to bring to Neverland.

Sundberg said that during its prime, Neverland was one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen. Jackson could act like a kid there — driving golf carts, throwing water balloons and just having fun. He said that week after week the buses would roll in, bringing inner city kids, Make-A-Wish kids, and friends and family. Sundberg was there when children, whose dying wish was to spend a day with Michael Jackson, would drop by.

“This was the Michael I knew,” Sundberg said. “Innocent — perhaps childlike at times — but not childish. A professional who worked to be the best performer in the world, yet knew how to have fun. If he was comfortable, he would laugh and joke with everyone, but if someone was there that made him uncomfortable, he would disappear.”

Sundberg last spoke to Jackson in 2003. The music icon wanted some additional work done at the ranch, but things had clearly changed.

He said, “It was an awkward conversation between us, with me declining to do the work for what he was offering. Then he drove away in a golf cart. As I walked to my car, I knew it was the last time I would ever see him. I remember looking across the valley, with the amusement park well past its prime, the grass not as green as it once was, and Michael driving over the bridge back to his house. I was a long way from that hallway in the studio where we first met.”

After living for 25 years in the Los Angeles area, the Sundbergs decided about a year ago they wanted the quality of life that is so abundant on the Alabama coast. He said, “Escaping L.A. and the traffic, the egos and everything else, and setting up shop in Fairhope was a relief, a pleasure.”

He sold the company’s Los Angeles and New York operations, and began another in Fairhope. Sundberg credits Jackson for helping him get his start.

“Working with Michael is where I cut my teeth and got my contractor’s license,” he said. "Since I can’t sing and can’t dance, I’m able to do this and exercise my creative side.”

Life here is fairly routine by comparison. Sundberg and his wife, Debbie, have been happily married since 1985, and have four daughters they are very proud of — Amanda, 19; Hanna, 17; Madeline, 13; and Olivia, 6.

The family now lives comfortably on a quiet Fairhope street, where chirping birds and passing cars are the sounds most frequently heard. And sound is something the family patriarch knows well.