In the end, Michael could not go through with it; he couldn't move out, especially since Katherine didn't want to go, either. ‘I just don't feel it's time for me to move away from home yet,’ he said. ‘If I moved out now, I'd die of loneliness. Most people who move out go to discos every night. They party every night. They invite friends over, and I don't do any of those things.’ (In a couple of years, Michael would move into the condominium temporarily, along with other family members, when the Encino home was remodelled. He still owns the condominium today; it has been used as a haven for his brothers when they have had marital difficulties.)
In the spring of 1981, plans were being finalized for The Jacksons to embark on a thirty-nine-city concert tour of the United States to support their new album, called Triumph. Michael didn't want to go. One problem he had with touring concerned the enormous amount of preparation and work involved. Then when it was over, it was over – unlike a movie or a video, which is timeless and lasting. ‘What's so sad about the whole thing is that you don't capture the moment,’ he told me of live performances. ‘Look at how many great actors or entertainers have been lost to the world because they did a performance one night and that was it. With film, you capture it, it's shown all over the world, and it's there for ever. Spencer Tracy will always be young in Captains Courageous, and I can learn and be stimulated by his performance.
‘So much is lost in live theatre. Or vaudeville. Do you know how much I could have learned by watching all of those entertainers? When I perform, I feel like I'm giving a whole lot but for nothing. I like to capture things and hold them and share them with the world.’
He really had no choice, however. His family wanted him to go on the road with them – the tour was projected to gross millions of dollars for them – the record label had also insisted upon a tour… so there would be a tour. Michael just hoped that it would, in some way, unite the family after such difficult times at home. He was frustrated and upset, but he would force himself along. Still, some would notice a cold implacability on his face when with the family at rehearsals. He seemed removed from the proceedings, not involved, not interested.
Before embarking on the Triumph tour, Michael underwent the second rhinoplasty surgery recommended by Dr Steven Hoefflin. ‘He didn't tell his family he was doing it,’ said Marcus Phillips. ‘He just did it. He came home all black and blue and bandaged, and Katherine said, “Michael, what in the world happened to you?” She must have thought he'd been beaten up. “Did you break your nose again?” she asked. He told her he hadn't, that his doctor recommended a second operation. Then, he went to his bedroom and stayed there for a week, coming down to the kitchen every now and then for some vegetables.
‘One thing I know to be true is that Michael was elated about the fact that with the second nose job he looked less like his father,’ Marcus Phillips said. ‘That appealed to him very much. If he couldn't erase Joseph from his life, at least he could erase him from the reflection in the mirror. Already, he was talking about having a third nose job.’
Even though Michael never discussed his surgery with anyone, he was crying out for help, becoming obsessed by the appearance of the man in the mirror, and a dangerous pattern was beginning to emerge.
In June 1981, Michael and Quincy Jones began work on a storytelling record book of Steven Spielberg's film, E. T. Michael would also be featured as vocalist on one song, ‘Someone in the Dark’, written by Alan and Marilyn Bergman. Michael was so enchanted by the story of E. T. that he couldn't wait to meet the animated extraterrestrial ‘actor’ when a publicity photo session was arranged. ‘He grabbed me, he put his arms around me,’ Michael said of the animatronic robot, his face filled with child-like wonder. ‘He was so real that I was talking to him. I kissed him before I left. The next day, I missed him.’
Later in the month, Michael went into the studio with Diana Ross to produce a song for her called ‘Muscles’ – named after his pet snake. Michael was ecstatic about the opportunity to produce a record for his idol. Some claimed that the reason Michael had his plastic surgery was in order to look more like Miss Ross. However, as one Jackson confidant put it, ‘If Michael Jackson wanted to look like Diana Ross, believe me, he had the millions to look exactly like Diana Ross. That was never his intention. However, that's not to say that he wasn't tickled that people thought he resembled her. “Do you really think I do?” he would ask, tilting his head in a pose. “Because if I do, wow! How amazing would that be.”’
At this time, Diana had left Motown and was recording her second album for RCA, Silk Electric. The album was shaping up to be a disaster and she needed something outstanding on the collection, which is why she contacted Michael. ‘I was coming back from England, working on Paul McCartney's album, zooming along on the Concorde, and this song popped into my head,’ Michael recalled. ‘I said, “Hey, that's perfect for Diana.” I didn't have a tape recorder or anything, so I had to suffer for like three hours. Soon as I got home, I whipped that baby on tape.’
Diana has said that Michael seemed intimidated by her while the two of them worked together in the studio. He couldn't bring himself to direct her.
‘You're the man,’ Diana insisted, an admiring look in her eyes. ‘You're the boss on this one.’ Diana wanted Michael to take control of the recording session, but it was difficult for him. ‘In the end, the song just sort of produced itself,’ said a friend of Diana's. The kinky lyrics of ‘Muscles’ extol the joys of a man's muscles ‘all over your body’. ‘I don't know whether it's supposed to be Michael's fantasy or mine,’ Diana said when it was finally released.
Either way, it was a Top Ten record for Diana Ross.
The Triumph tour began in Memphis, Tennessee, on 9 July 1981, and ended with a record-breaking, sell-out, four-night engagement at the Los Angeles Forum. The biggest numbers of the show were always Michael's solo songs from the Off the Wall album. There were also special effects arranged by magician Doug Henning: Michael seemed to disappear into a puff of smoke after performing ‘Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough’. Offstage, Michael also seemed to want to disappear, rarely socializing with his brothers or the rest of the entourage. ‘This is my last tour,’ he promised anyone who asked. ‘I will never do this again. Ever.’
Being on the road with him made the Jackson brothers realize how far Michael had distanced himself from them. He started talking to the press about the possibility of a solo career. ‘I think that will happen gracefully in the future,’ he told Paul Grein of Billboard. ‘I think the public will ask for it. That's definitely going to happen.’
It was not what his brothers wanted to hear. It didn't help them feel any more secure when Michael began involving himself more in the business end of the show. For instance, one day he was scheduled to rehearse with the group when someone handed him a copy of the contract for the trucks that were to carry equipment for the tour. Michael glanced at it and said, ‘Wait, I need to check something with my lawyer.’
‘That can wait, Michael,’ Jackie said, bristling with anger. ‘This rehearsal is important.’
Michael ignored his older brother's remark, left the stage area and found a telephone. He called John Branca. ‘He wanted me to explain a paragraph that dealt with what happened if the truck broke down, if it had a flat tyre, or the road washed out,’ John recalled. ‘I explained the paragraph. He asked a couple of questions and said, “Okay, I understand.” He was all about details, always with the details, wanting to know everything. He used to say, “It's important that I know.”’
Michael then returned to the stage, signed the contract, and went back to work.
Around this time Michael finally learned to drive so he could leave the estate when it became too difficult for him there. Singer Mickey Free (formerly of the group Shalamar) remembered his first meeting with Michael in the fall of 1981. ‘I was signed to Diana Ross's management company at that time. She was staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel and asked me if I wanted to come down to her bungalow and meet Mich
ael. Well, who wouldn't?’ he recalled. ‘So I had dinner with Michael, Diana and Gene [Simmons of Kiss, Diana's boyfriend at the time]. I was freaking out because I always wanted to meet Michael, and he was so nice. So it came time for me to go home. Diana's car had brought me there, and she said, Okay, I'll call the driver to come and get you.’ Michael very softly said, “Oh, that's okay, I'll take Mickey home.”’
Diana and Gene were astonished. ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Michael?’ Diana asked him. ‘Are you sure you can handle it?’
‘Yeah, I can do it, Diana,’ Michael said, confidently.
Mickey got into Michael's Silver Shadow Rolls-Royce, and the two sped off down the driveway in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel. ‘Be careful,’ Diana hollered after them. ‘Don't drive too fast, Michael.’
When they got to Mickey's apartment building about fifteen minutes later, Michael drove around the block a few times before sheepishly confessing, ‘You know what? I can drive this thing, but I don't know how to parallel park it. Can you park for me?’ Michael stopped the car in the middle of the road and the two traded seats.
‘I rode around the block ten times to find a parking place so people could see me driving Michael Jackson around in his fabulous car,’ Mickey recalled.
An Indirect Conversation
By the fall of 1981, despite CBS Records' best efforts to keep the Jackson family's domestic turmoil a secret, most industry insiders were aware of what had happened between Katherine and Gina because of the public filings of the lawsuit litigation. Michael had made it clear that he did not want to have to face any reporters, because he was afraid that he might be asked to comment on the matter. However, the press grind to promote Triumph would continue, Michael's wishes notwithstanding.
Michael Jackson, who had just turned twenty-three, was a contradictory figure. He was decisive and determined, as he had proved a few times along the way, but he was also vulnerable and confused. Though he was beginning to seize control of his career, he was still reluctant to sever ties with his family. ‘I'd die if I were alone,’ he told me in a telephone interview on his birthday. He was unable to leave the womb, to move out of the house. ‘No way,’ he said. ‘I could never leave here.’
Instead of growing up, Michael actually seemed to be regressing – buying toys, playing childlike games and, for the first time, actually surrounding himself with children. Young fans who gathered at the gates of the estate to catch a glimpse of a Jackson coming or going were now being invited to spend time in the inner-sanctum with Michael. It was odd behaviour. Jackie now called him a ‘Man-Child’, explaining, ‘He's a man, but still a kid, a wonderful combination.’ When asked about the possibility of having his own children, Michael shook his head, no. He'd like to raise a child, he said, but it would be one whom he would adopt, ‘in the far future’. He would not procreate, he said. ‘I don't have to bring my own into the world,’ he said uneasily. ‘It's not necessary for me to do that.’
He continued, ‘One of my favourite pastimes is being with children – talking to them, playing with them in the grass. They're one of the main reasons I do what I do. They know everything that people are trying to find out, they know so many secrets, but it's hard for them to get it out. I can recognize that and learn from it. They say things that astound you. They go through a brilliant, genius stage. But then, when they become a certain age…’ Michael paused. ‘When they get to a certain age, they lose it.’
I was scheduled to interview this extraordinary ‘Man-Child’ on 3 October 1981, an encounter that was arranged by a publicist at Epic. In advance, I was warned not to mention Gina Sprague or ask questions about ‘the incident’ or the state of Michael's parents' marriage.
I was at my desk compiling a list of questions when the telephone rang. It was Michael. He got to the point, quickly. ‘There's a certain way I want to do this interview,’ he told me.
‘Sure thing, Michael. Whatever you like.’
‘Well,’ he began slowly. ‘I'd like for Janet to help.’
‘Help?’
‘Yes. See, Janet is going to sit in on our interview,’ he told me. ‘You'll ask her the questions, and then she'll ask me. Then, see, I'll give her the answers, and then she'll give them to you. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds strange, Michael. I don't even think I understand it. Could you explain that to me, again?’
He repeated the scenario and said that it was the only way he would consent to the interview. ‘So, I hope you understand,’ he said, briskly. ‘Okay, bye.’
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I don't get it, Michael. You're giving me an interview, but you're not talking to me? What kind of madness is that?’
‘It might seem like madness to you,’ he said. ‘But there are reasons for the things I do. You just have to try to understand. If you're willing to do it my way, I'll see you tomorrow. Okay? Bye, now.’
I wondered if I could conduct an interview in that manner. Did it make any sense? Of course, I had to try. How could I turn down the opportunity to engage in, no doubt, the strangest interview I'd ever had with Michael, or with anyone else, for that matter.
The next day, I arrived at the Encino home in time for the interview. ‘Sure glad you could make it,’ Michael said as we shook hands. He was wearing a black T-shirt and matching jeans. His feet were bare. I noticed that his nose was thinner and more defined than it had been the last time I saw him, which was about six months earlier backstage at a Patti Labelle concert in Hollywood. His falsetto whisper of a voice seemed even softer than it had been at that time.
After Michael and I exchanged pleasantries in the living room, Janet, age fifteen, walked in wearing a red leather miniskirt, black boots, and a plaid sweater. She did not greet me. Rather, she sat at Michael's side in a robotic fashion, not even acknowledging his presence.
Michael introduced me to her, as if we had never met. (Of course, we had.) We shook hands, but she never made eye contact with me. I sat opposite them.
‘Now, you'll do the interview the way you promised, won't you?’ he asked.
When I said that I hadn't ‘promised’ anything, he rose from his chair. ‘Well, then, we can't do the interview,’ he said, his words clipped.
‘Wait,’ I told him, motioning for him to be seated. ‘Let's try it. Let's start with the new album, Triumph. How do you feel about it?’
Michael pinned me with his dark eyes and nodded toward his sister. I redirected my question. ‘Janet, would you please ask him how he feels about the album.’
Janet turned to Michael. ‘He wants to know how you feel about the album,’ she said.
‘Tell him I'm very happy with it,’ Michael said, his tone relaxed. ‘Working with my brothers again was an incredible experience for me. It was,’ he stopped, searching for the word, ‘magical,’ he concluded.
Janet nodded her head and turned to me. ‘He told me to tell you that he's very happy with the album,’ she repeated. ‘And that working with his brothers was an incredible experience for him.’
There was a pause.
‘You forgot the part about it being magical,’ Michael said to her, seeming peeved at her for not doing her job properly.
‘Oh, yes.’ Janet looked at me with apologetic, brown eyes. ‘He said it was magical.’
‘Magical?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Magical.’
As I tried to think of another question for Janet to ask him, I scrutinized Michael carefully for the first time that day. It suddenly struck me that he was wearing makeup; his brows and lashes were darkened with mascara, his eyelids coated with soft pink shadow. Rouge emphasized his cheekbones and… was that lipstick? Yes, I decided, scarlet lipstick. Today, the notion of Michael Jackson wearing makeup in day-to-day living (as opposed to onstage or on camera, where practically all men in show business wear it) is certainly not novel. Back in 1981, though, it would never have occurred to anyone that Michael would wear makeup in his home for an interview. It was applied subtly and with great care. He
looked exotic.
The ‘interview’ went on for about thirty more awkward minutes. Occasionally, Janet would inject a comment of her own, in an effort, it seemed to me, to keep the conversation alive. ‘Michael, remember when that girl got upset because she had heard you had a sex change?’ she said to him. ‘Do you remember what happened to her? She got so upset, she jumped right out a window. I think she died,’ Janet said. ‘Poor thing.’
Michael looked into space, blankly.
Finally I decided that I'd had enough of the odd exchange and said I'd rather not continue with the interview. ‘But why not?’ Michael wanted to know. ‘Wait. Janet will tell you what happened when I visited Katharine Hepburn last month,’ he offered. ‘It's a good story.’
‘I'd rather you tell me, Michael,’ I pressed.
‘Well, I can't…’
There was a small silence between us.
‘Then, look, just forget it,’ I said. ‘Let's just forget the whole thing. Michael.’
‘Okay, cool,’ he said. Smiling somewhat ruefully, he rose. ‘Nice to see you again,’ he remarked, not connecting with my frustration. ‘Let's do this again, sometime.’ Then, he left the room. Janet threw me a look and extended her hands at me, palms up, as if to exclaim, Now, look what you've done.
Michael Jackson Page 24
