A former Israeli paratrooper, Geller became internationally famous for his purported telekinetic powers - which he demonstrated over the years by ruining silverware on the same TV shows that would later feature Boteach.
Geller would hold up a spoon, cock his eyebrow, and it seemingly bent, as if he had magic powers. In the late 1960s, Israeli leader Golda Mayer mentioned him on a radio show, and he suddenly became an international celebrity.
In one instance he claimed he caused London's Big Ben to stop ticking. Another time, he claimed to stop a German cable car in mid flight. Millions believed in him.
At his high point, Geller suggested that he was working with the CIA and Israeli intelligence on psychic espionage programs to keep the old Soviet Union in line.
But his career nose-dived after a 1973 Tonight Show appearance. Johnny Carson's staff consulted with magician and paranormal investigator James Randi, who said he set up safeguards to prevent Geller from cheating.
After fumbling and squirming for 20 minutes, Geller claimed he was simply too tired to use his powers.
"A lot of magicians do things that Geller does," Randi once told me. "They just don't try to pass themselves off as psychics."
Geller retreated to England, struggled with depression and bulimia, but still maintained that he has telekinetic powers and could teach others. He even tutored Jackson's friend, Mohamad Al Fayed, the fabulously wealthy owner of Harrod's department store and father of Princess Diana's late boyfriend, Dodi.
The Jackson-Boteach-Geller triumvirate proved that celebrity - just like politics - makes for strange bedfellows. Geller turned to me at a break in the ceremony to rave about Jackson's psychic power. "Michael has great concentration and he is a great learner," he said. "I think he has potential."
King of Pop Digs Bagels
As the evening progressed, Geller and Boteach whispered instructions to their pal. Jackson stood when they stood, sat when they sat, and clapped his discolored hands through spiritual folk songs.
The evening was ending, and Jackson's handlers started sidling him through the crowd.
I was obeying my friend's warning, not to talk to Michael. But how could I be completely silent?
"Hey, Michael," I said, "Did you have a good time?"
"This was wonderful," said Jackson in his famously spacey manner. "You people are so kind." I shook his hand gingerly, hoping his nose would not fall from his face.
Outside, Geller and Boteach congratulated each other. They clarified that Jackson never expressed an interest in converting. The entertainer just wanted to experience a Jewish prayer service.
Still, the rabbi and the psychic both thought Jackson has the makings of good Jew. The King of Pop is loving, compassionate and - Boteach said - he "really likes bagels."
Perhaps with lox. Perhaps with cream cheese. Definitely with one sparkling glove.
Farewell, Michael Jackson. It was nice meeting you.
