Jacko, His Rise and Fall: The Social and Sexual History of Michael Jackson (12 page)

It was not as a sexual adventurer but as a singer that Michael had a breakthrough as a solo artist when he turned fourteen in 1972. He followed "Got to
Be There" with another hit, "Rockin' Robin," a revival of Bobby Day's 1958
rock 'n' roll novelty song. "Rockin' Robin" shot to number two on the charts,
proving once again that Michael, like Diana Ross herself, could make it without a group.

His next big single, Ben, also in 1972, was actually a paean to a rat. Most
of his fans who bought the record didn't know that. Michael always had an
affinity for rats or mice, feeding the hapless creatures live to his pet boa constrictor. In spite of its dedication, the song was a beautiful ballad, winning a
Golden Globe award and an Academy Award nomination. Michael also
recorded the theme song for the film version of Ben, which was released in
1972, telling the story of a boy who befriended a rat, the leader of a pack of vicious rodents. Ben was a sequel to another film, Willard, released in 1971.
In an understatement, Michael said, "A lot of people thought the movie was a
bit off," referring to Ben, "but I was not one of them."

The Jackson brothers meet Queen Elizabeth II

At one point in Ben, it sounds as if Diana Ross is singing. And for a few
brief moments, especially in the melodrama of the lyric, Michael evokes
Barbra Streisand.

Michael made Ben the title of his second solo album, released by Motown
in 1972. This album included such favorites as "People Make the World Go
`Round," "Everybody's Somebody's Fool," and "Shoo-Be-Doo-Be-Doo-DaDay." Even so, sales remained at the same relatively modest 350,000 or so
that his first album, Got to Be There, generated. Three years would go by
before Michael released another solo album. This time the results would be
disastrous.

Michael was furious that in his acceptance speech on Oscar night, the
writer of "Ben" didn't "thank me for singing the song that made it a success."

As an artist, Michael was growing increasingly rebellious. He complained
to Gordy that, "They want me to sing in a certain way, and I know they are
wrong." In Moonwalk, his autobiography, he claimed, "No matter what age
you are, if you have it and you know it, then people should listen to you."

Joe regarded Michael's newly found independence with a certain dread.
He welcomed the extra money that Michael was earning for the family
through his solo recordings, but he feared that if his young son became too successful he might break away from his brothers. Actually the group could
have been renamed "The Jackson 6," as "Baby Randy" had joined his brothers on stage.

Before Thanksgiving in 1972, The Jackson 5 (plus Randy) moved onto the
world stage, as they flew to London's Heathrow Airport for a royal command
performance in the U.K. for Queen Elizabeth II. Unaware of their popularity
abroad, the brothers did not anticipate the extent of their fame. Jacksonmania
in London reached mass hysteria, even threatening lives. Michael later reported that he was nearly strangled to death at the airport when two strong girls
grabbed different ends of his bright red scarf. Show biz vets, facing screaming, souvenir-collecting fans, had long ago learned never to wear a scarf into
a crowd. It was rumored that Michael nearly lost more than a scarf. One
London commentator noted that a fanatical young girl had "grabbed Michael's
weenie and had held onto it for life" until a security guard pushed her aside.

"There wasn't enough security," Marlon was quoted as saying.
"Screaming fans completely blocked our silver Rolls Royce limousine. The
car couldn't move forward without killing someone. Finally, we were forced
out of the Rolls just in time. The screamers tipped it over. We could have been
killed. We were grabbed everywhere-and I mean everywhere-as the police
hustled us off to different transportation out of the hellhole. I was practically
choked to death by one girl. Our Afros were pulled out by wads of hair. I was
scared shitless."

From the very beginning, Michael was never good at interviews, and often
ended up being ridiculed. In London, he told a reporter for The Daily Mail:
"I'm glad to be in England because I've always wanted to learn more about
Napoleon."

Fans surrounded the Churchill Hotel in London where the brothers had
been booked. On the night of their appearance at Albert Hall, the brothers
feared they could not get through the crowds and into their limousine. The
hotel's security called the London police. Officers arrived with water hoses to
turn back the crowds.

To complicate matters, "some insane fool" booked the Osmond brothers
into the Churchill at the same time. Fights broke out between the two warring
camps of fans: the Osmond devotees vs. the Jackson fans. A doorman at the
Churchill was knifed by a rabid twelve-year-old girl who'd run away from her
home in Lincoln.

Things went more smoothly when The Jacksons flew to Glasgow for a
command performance at King's Hall in honor of Queen Elizabeth II's Silver
Jubilee, and the brothers performed brilliantly. "We're making history,"
Michael said gleefully.

Her Majesty was ushered backstage to greet personally each member of the group, including its star, Michael. He was shy and embarrassed in the presence of Her Royal Highness. One London reporter claimed that Michael "curtsied like a girl" when introduced to Queen Elizabeth.

Michael seemed even more jubilant when The Jacksons performed in
Liverpool, hometown of the "Fab Four." The brothers broke even the attendance records set by The Beatles themselves. When they appeared at the
London Palladium, The Jackson 5 concert was sold out. In the future, whenever the name of Elton John would come up, Michael was arrogantly dismissive of the performer. "Oh, yeah, him! He was our opening act at the
Palladium."

Flying out of Heathrow and once again facing hysterical fans, The
Jacksons met "wild mobs" in such cities as Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Brussels,
and Munich. In Munich, a limousine carrying the brothers was overturned and
stripped so bare by souvenir hunters that it was left as a piece of junk.
Fortunately, the brothers had been ushered out of the vehicle before it was
ripped apart.

The mobs greeting The Beatles on the Continent of Europe years before
showed some similarities in the mobs who turned out for a viewing of The
Jacksons. But whereas the mass hysteria associated with the arrival of The
Beatles translated into platinum records, it didn't apply to sales for The
Jackson 5.

In fact, sales of The Jackson 5's singles began to fall on Billboard charts.
Their song, "Sugar Daddy," barely made the Top Ten, appearing at the bottom of the list.

"Little Bitty Pretty One," a rhythm-and-blues number, had been a big hit
when Bobby Day recorded it in 1958. By ripping off another Bobby Day number, also introduced in 1958, Michael had scored a hit single with "Rockin'
Robin." But lightning did not strike twice. "Little Bitty Pretty One" never got
beyond number thirteen on the charts.

The band's next single, "Lookin' through the Window," sold about a halfmillion copies, the same as "Little Bitty Pretty One." "Corner of the Sky,"
from the Broadway musical, Pippin, was a complete disappointment, selling
about 350,000 copies, never moving beyond number 18 on Billboards charts.

"What's happening?" Joe asked Gordy, blaming him for his lack of promotion. Joe, with some degree of accuracy, suspected that Gordy was devoting most of his creative energies to the launching of Diana Ross as a big-time
black film star. "The fans are mad for my sons," Joe said. "I just know the public is buying their singles."

Back in the United States, even a special for CBS didn't help their record
sales. "The Jackson brothers are aging, becoming men, and they seem to have
lost their special appeal," wrote critic Gavin Spacey. "Michael is the only one with any real talent. He seems dedicated, his brothers distracted, just going
through the motions. The kid should break away from his brothers and
become a bright star in his own right. His brothers are just extra baggage he
has to carry onto the stage."

Ross had made a film, Lady Sings the Blues, a biography of jazz vocalist
Billie Holiday, which had been financed by her lover, Gordy. The film opened
in the autumn of 1972 at Loew's State in New York, breaking the attendance
record previously established in 1970 by the sappy Love Story starring Ryan
O'Neal and Ali MacGraw.

Michael reportedly resented Ross's success with "Good Morning
Heartache," a single release from the film's track album. "Gordy should have
given me that number," Michael said. "I could have done it so much better."

Early in 1973, Lady Sings the Blues received five Oscar nominations,
including a Best Actress nomination for Ross. Michael was envious, plotting
to become a movie star himself. Gordy and Ross were heartsick when it was
announced at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion in Los Angeles that the Best
Actress Oscar had been won by Michael's future friend and confidant, Liza
Minnelli, for her brilliant performance in Cabaret. Michael reportedly danced
a jig upon hearing the news, although in public he said that "I'm rooting for
Diana. She deserves it!"

Whenever he could break free from his rehearsals, Michael visited Ross
on the set of Lady Sings the Blues. "He gave me a creepy feeling when he
stood watching Ross perform," said Larry Winsfield, who'd worked on the
film in a lowly job. "Mostly I brought coffee to the crew. But I was fascinated by watching Michael's face. He seemed oblivious to everyone else. He was
studying Ross with such concentration that it looked like he was stealing her
soul. It was obvious to all of us who saw Michael on the set that he wanted to
be in front of the cameras like Ross, not watching from the sidelines."

Long after the Oscar ceremonies, Michael was overheard telling a sound
crew, "If I'd been given a chance like Diana, I wouldn't have lost the Oscar to
nobody. I have the talent to re-create any black male entertainer. Can you
imagine how great I'd be in The Sammy Davis Jr Story? For that matter, if
they ever film The Diana Ross Story, I'd make the ideal choice as the star even
though I'm a man. With the proper makeup and some plastic surgery, I could
create Diana. When the movie of her life is made, she'll be too old to play herself. But I have the kind of face that will be forever young."

A movie career lay in Michael's future. But in the meantime, there were
serious career problems that faced both him and his brothers. The release of
"Hallelujah Day" in February of 1973 had been a disappointment, generating
a sale of only 200,000 copies. That same year, another single, "Doctor My
Eyes," went nowhere.

Michael himself, in his autobiography, Moonwalk, wrote of his own disappointment in such Jackson 5 singles as "Skywriter." In spite of its advanced
musical arrangements for strings, Michael maintained that the song was not a
good choice for his brothers. "Skywriter" also became both the lead song and
the name of the latest Jackson album, released in 1973 and featuring such
other songs as "The Boogie Man" and "I Can't Quit Your Love." Sales of the
Skywriter album were disappointing, coming in under 120,000 copies.

As Michael moved deeper into the mid-seventies, he feared that The
Jackson 5 might be on the road to becoming a "Golden Oldies" act, playing
Las Vegas clubs and going on nostalgic tours. "I had this fear even when I was
a young teenager," Michael claimed.

Joe shared Michael's concerns, despite the initial success of The Jackson
5 and their screaming fans. "If we don't play it right from now on, my boys
might end up a flash in the pan," he warned Gordy. Joe had grown increasingly resentful of Motown, complaining that the company did not let them choose
their own songs or even play their own instruments. He began to plot a means
of breaking away from Motown and signing with another record company.

One possible explanation for the fall-off in sales was oversaturation of the
market. Between Thanksgiving of 1969 until Christmas of 1971, Motown
flooded the market with eight Jackson singles, plus a solo by Michael. They
also released an astonishing five Jackson 5 albums, a total of 54 songs.
Another factor involved the product's pricing: Teen fans of The Jackson 5
could afford the one dollar price of a solo recording, but not the five dollar
cost of an entire album.

The rapid rise and almost fall of The Jackson 5 was not unique in the
music business, where most teenage groups rarely last more than two years.
The critic Pablo Guzman explained it: "The basic problem of teen idolatry is
that teens grow up. Subsequent waves of new teens usually consider last
year's model passe."

Selma Davis worked briefly at Motown, but overheard some heated discussions when Gordy was overseeing the filming of Mahogany, starring Diana
Ross. "First, I learned that Jackie, Marlon, and Tito were viewed as having no
talent, certainly not as solo artists. The bosses (at Motown) thought that
Jermaine and certainly Michael could be successful as solos. But even before
Joe Jackson bolted from Motown, the brass there knew that the end was coming. It was just a matter of time."