Michael Jackson

by J. Randy Taraborrelli

  Finally, after a weekend of intense pressure, Michael signed the contract at four o'clock one Monday morning. A rider made it clear that he would not have to hold a can of Pepsi, or drink from one, in any commercial or publicity photo.

  ‘You know something? I don't know what that boy has against making money,’ Joseph said later, in regard to Michael's reluctance about the Pepsi endorsement. ‘You can always have more money. You never get to a point, I don't care how much money you have, where you don't need more money. And at that time everybody in the family, except Michael, I guess, needed it.’

  On 30 November 1983, a press conference was organized at the Tavern on the Green restaurant in New York City to announce the Jacksons' reunion tour, and the fact that Don King would be promoting it. By this time, Michael had had two more major hit singles, ‘Human Nature’ and ‘PYT’, so it was expected that the site would be mobbed with fans, which it was; there were over a hundred police officers guarding the Tavern.

  The press conference began on an odd note…and went downhill from there. In his introductory remarks, Don King spoke of God, then love and ‘enrapturement’, and the fact that ‘Michael has soared the heights to the unknown’. Then, said the master promoter, ‘It is so fortunate for all of us and so symbolic that we have such a beautiful family to use for all the world to see. They are humble. They are warm. They exude charming magnetism. The love that emits from these guys is so contagious,’ he enthused. ‘It's so captivating and infectious and it got me into this whirlwind of a musical spell that I can't seem to get out of…’ On and on he went, for almost a half-hour. Then, he showed a fifteen-minute documentary – about himself. Katherine, Joseph, LaToya and Janet watched with confused looks on their faces as Don King then paraphrased Malvolio's speech from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, ‘Be not afraid of greatness,’ he said, his chest puffed with pride. ‘Some men are born great. Some achieve greatness. And others have greatness thrust upon them.’

  Joseph leaned over to Katherine and was overheard asking, ‘Is he talking about us or himself?’ She shrugged.

  ‘Does anything he's saying make any sense at all?’ she asked, bewildered.

  Don King then spoke of the upcoming forty-city tour, a concert film and a live satellite broadcast. He also announced that Pepsi-Cola had ponied up five million dollars for the privilege of sponsoring the event. The Jacksons would star in two commercials for Pepsi as part of the deal. ‘It is going to be fabulous. The highest-grossing tour, the most amazing tour ever in history by these extraordinary men…’

  Finally, Michael, Marlon, Tito, Jermaine, Randy and Jackie walked out to great applause from the press corps; they sat on the dais with glum faces, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses. None of them looked amused by the manner Don King continued to grandstand for the media. Finally, Don urged Michael to speak. ‘I really don't have anything to say,’ Michael began. ‘I guess I would like to introduce the rest of my family. First my mother, Katherine – ’

  ‘Yes, that's the mother, Katherine,’ Don King butted in. ‘The backbone, the strength, the heart and soul – ’

  ‘And this is my father, Joseph.’

  ‘Hmm-hmm, that's him. Joseph Jackson. I love that man. That man has truly mesmerized me.’

  ‘And that's LaToya and Janet,’ Michael said, now frowning at Don.

  ‘Yes, aren't they truly lovely? The Jackson sisters, LaToya and…’ Don's voice trailed off when he noticed Michael's expression.

  ‘And my brothers' beautiful wives are here,’ Michael continued. ‘Hazel, Carol, Enid and Dee Dee. My sister Maureen is not here because she is doing an album for CBS. Thank you very much.’

  Michael then refused to answer questions.

  ‘Thank you, Michael, the golden voice of song,’ Don said, quickly.

  ‘So, what's this tour going to be called?’ a reporter asked.

  ‘They haven't named it yet,’ King answered.

  ‘Excuse me, but yes, we have,’ Marlon cut in. ‘We're calling it the Victory tour.’

  ‘So there you have it, ladies and gentleman,’ Don proclaimed. ‘That is the name of the tour. The Victory tour. And what a heck of a name that is, too.’

  ‘And what's the point of this tour?’ someone else asked.

  ‘The tour will mean that the brothers are getting together once again,’ Jermaine said, ‘to unite and work close with each other, to show the world that we can make everybody happy. And everybody in the whole world will unite as one, because we want to bring this together in peace for everyone,’ he concluded, making about as much sense as Don King.

  ‘Why can't Michael say more?’ asked another reporter.

  ‘Uh, well…’ Don shot a look at Michael. Michael shook his head emphatically, no. ‘He, uh, his voice is a problem because he has been working so hard singing those songs and makin' all those hit records,’ said Don. ‘He will not be able to continue talking now. Isn't that right, Michael?’

  Michael seemed to glare at the promoter behind his shades.

  Later, Washington reporters Maxwell Glen and Cody Shearer would dub the event ‘one of media history's most abominable press conferences, ever.’ Another observer called The Jacksons' tour ‘The Nitro Tour’, explaining that ‘at any minute the whole thing is gonna blow sky-high.’

  Michael had arranged to have the press conference video-taped. A few hours after it was mercifully over, he, John Branca and a few other trusted associates watched the tape in Michael's suite at the Helmsley Palace. ‘It's a mess, isn't it?’ was Michael's verdict.

  John observed that Don King was actually the star of the show, and that The Jacksons had been ‘some kind of sideshow’.

  ‘Well, that really stinks, doesn't it?’ Michael said, angrily. ‘We gotta show this tape to the brothers.’

  Michael then called a meeting in his room. Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon and Randy showed up within minutes. After the press conference, even they had their doubts about Don King. ‘Look at this terrible thing,’ Michael said, putting in the video tape.

  ‘What's wrong with you guys?’ Michael wanted to know after the tape finished. ‘Can't you see that this man is using us? This is the Don King show, and The Jacksons are an opening act. Can't you see how bad this looks?’

  ‘You're right, Michael,’ Jackie said, shaking his head in despair. ‘The guy is a complete jerk.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ Jermaine agreed. ‘Mike is right. I've never been so embarrassed. That was bad, real bad.’

  The rest of the brothers agreed. Participating in the press conference had been a bleak enough proposition, but seeing how it looked from the other side of the dais was more than the brothers' pride could bear. ‘Well, look, you guys chose this creep,’ Michael said. ‘Now, Branca and I are going to choose someone else, a tour coordinator who's going to really handle the business, someone like Bill Graham or Irvin Azoff, someone big in the business,’ Michael said, referring to two giants in the concert promotion world. ‘Do we agree?’ he asked, taking charge. ‘Is it time to take back some power?’

  The brothers nodded their heads in agreement.

  Another Bombastic, Attention-getting Melodrama?

  By 1984, despite his tremendous fame and great fortune, Michael Jackson still continued door-to-door proselytizing for the Jehovah's Witness faith, ‘twice a week, maybe for an hour or two,’ according to Katherine. He also attended meetings at Kingdom Hall with his mother four times a week, when he was in town.

  An example of a typical day of spreading The Word: wearing a disguise – a moustache, hat and glasses – and a tie and sweater, and holding a copy of Watchtower, Michael stood at the door of an apartment in suburban Thousand Oaks, California, one morning in early 1984. ‘I'm here to talk to you about God's word,’ he told the young girl who answered the bell.

  She slammed the door in his face.

  He went to the next apartment.

  ‘Today, I'm here to talk to you about God's word,’ he said when the door opened. He was invited into th
e apartment, and the door closed behind him. Louise Gilmore recalled the day Michael came to visit: ‘It was very odd. At first I thought it was some kind of a trick-or-treat gag. A young black man came to my door wearing what was obviously a phony moustache and beard, and a big hat. His face was too smooth for all that facial hair. He looked like a little boy playing grown-up. He had this soft little voice and looked harmless enough. ‘Can I talk to you for just a moment?’ he said politely. I decided to let him in.

  ‘He sat down and pulled out all of these books and pamphlets from a bag. “You should read these,” he said. He gave me a little speech about the Jehovah's Witnesses, which I paid no attention to, so I can't tell you what he said. He then had a glass of water, thanked me, and went on his way. I didn't think anything of it, except, My, what a polite little boy.

  ‘The next day my neighbour said to me, “Did Michael Jackson come to your house too?” I said, “What are you talking about?” When I put two and two together, I almost fainted. I've kept the material he gave me as souvenirs. No, I didn't join the religion.’

  More than ever before, Michael considered himself a strict Jehovah's Witness. He didn't believe in blood transfusions, Easter and Christmas (which he viewed as ‘pagan holidays’), or the celebration of his own birthday. He also did not believe in pledging allegiance to the flag. (In April 1984 he would attend the T. J. Martell Foundation's dinner honouring Walter Yetnikoff, president of CBS Records. Michael refused to be seated at the dais until after Monsignor Vincent Puma delivered the invocation and the crowd pledged allegiance to the flag and then sang the national anthem.)

  Despite the fact that Michael was devout – and no doubt had donated quite a bit of money to the religion – the church's elders were upset with him in 1984, mostly because of the ‘Thriller’ video.

  Michael had been so impressed with the horror-fantasy film An American Werewolf in London that he employed the services of John Landis to repeat his directorial duties and then he hired Rick Baker to create special effects on the ‘Thriller’ video. The fourteen-minute video was budgeted at $600,000. At this time, an artist could make a decent video for about $25,000. John Branca felt that Michael was overextending himself and advised him that they should find another way to pay for the ‘Thriller’ video.

  John and Michael came up with the idea of a video entitled The Making of Thriller. At the same time that the video was being taped, extra footage of how it was done, including interviews with some of the key figures and even Michael himself, would be shot. John then approached Vestron Video, a video distribution company, and had them pay approximately $500,000 for the right to distribute the product.

  Afterwards, John went to MTV and told executives there that Michael was doing a sixty-minute documentary and that if they wanted to show it, they'd have to pay for it. At that time, MTV didn't even pay record companies for the right to air videos because it was considered terrific promotion to have an artist's video aired on the cable-music station. While today there is much negotiating of money between MTV and an artist's managers, attorneys and record label executives, that was certainly not the case in 1984. However, because Michael was so popular, MTV quickly agreed to finance part of The Making of Thriller – if Michael would license it to the station for an official debut. The video would end up costing a little over a million dollars. The Showtime cable network also paid for second rights to the video. In all, MTV and Showtime put up nearly the whole second half of the million dollars.

  The ‘Thriller’ video combined illusion and reality, skilfully weaving one into the other. The story opens with Michael pulling his white Chevy convertible over to the side of a wooded road. In a line that has been around since ten minutes after the first Model T rolled off the assembly line, Michael turns to date Ola Ray (a former Playboy centrefold) and says, ‘I'm afraid we're out of gas.’ However, instead of staying put and romancing, they start to walk.

  He asks her to be his girl. She accepts. ‘I'm not like other guys,’ he then tells her in a soft and whispery voice.

  ‘Of course not,’ she says, brushing off one of the great understatements of all time. ‘That's why I love you.’

  ‘No,’ Michael insists. ‘I mean I'm different.’

  As the moon comes out from behind a cloud, Ola discovers how different Michael really is: how many other guys sprout fangs, claws and whiskers and bray at the moon as they turn into werewolves? He chases her through the woods. She trips. She is flat on her back. He hovers over her, clearly up to no good.

  Just as the monster is about to attack, the camera focuses on Michael and Ola as part of a movie theatre audience, dressed in a more modern fashion than their 1950-style counterparts on the screen. She is cringing in horror while he is clearly enjoying the scene. ‘I can't watch,’ she says, getting up to leave.

  Reluctantly putting aside his popcorn, Michael follows her out of the theatre, playfully taunting her about her fears. He begins singing ‘Thriller’ as they walk along the deserted streets. When they pass a graveyard, an assemblage of ghouls emerge from their graves and crypts to surround the couple. With skin the colour of mushrooms, blood dripping from the corners of their mouths, and eyeballs bulging halfway out of their heads, they look as though they have been moldering for a long time.

  Ola escapes to find shelter in a deserted house. Meanwhile, Michael leads the grotesque company in dance, his features contorted and menacing, his blood-red clothing contributing to his sinister appearance. He leads the other ghouls to Ola and, as she trembles in fear, Michael and his gruesome company break through the walls, the windows, the floor. Ola huddles on the sofa, screaming as Michael reaches out for her.

  Suddenly, they are in Michael's home. ‘Hey, what's the problem?’ a smiling Michael asks. Ola looks up at him with confused eyes. Was it all a dream? Michael puts his arm protectively around her shoulder. But, then, as he turns to face the camera his eyes are bestial, his smile ominous.

  There's little doubt that Michael never intended the video to advocate Satanism or the occult. He was so engrossed with fantasy, ‘Thriller’ was no scarier to him than Halloween. After all, when he finished a hard day's work on the set, he went home to a bunch of dead-eyed mannequins in his bedroom. Before he had even finished work on it, though, the video brought to a head an ongoing conflict between Michael and the church elders of the Encino Kingdom Hall. After the elders heard about the concept, they summoned Michael for a meeting, during which the state of his soul was discussed. He was not receptive. He didn't want to be told what to do, not by his father and not by his church, either. He refused to make any kind of statement repudiating his work, as the church insisted he should. ‘I know I'm an imperfect person,’ Michael said. ‘I'm not making myself out to be an angel.’

  Finally, when the elders threatened to banish him from the religion, Michael became worried. He telephoned John Branca's office. When John's secretary picked up the phone, there seemed to be no one on the line. All she heard was the sound of desperate breathing, as if someone was trying to catch his breath in between sobs. ‘I don't know who it is,’ she told John. ‘It might be Michael.’

  When John got on the line and heard nothing but panting, he became concerned. However, before he could figure out what was going on, the line went dead. John telephoned Michael, but there was no answer.

  The next day, Michael called back and whispered that he had ‘a big problem’. Then he abruptly hung up again. Could he be any more dramatic? These kinds of maddeningly cryptic telephone calls went on for several days until John was extremely worried about Michael.

  Finally, Michael got a hold of himself, apparently, and called John to ask if he had the tapes to the ‘Thriller’ video. When the attorney said that he didn't have them, that they were in the processing lab, Michael instructed him to retrieve them. ‘Then, I want you to destroy them,’ Michael said. He sounded desperate. ‘No one must ever see the video.’

  Before John had a chance to respond, Michael hung up.

 
Michael called back the next day, wanting to know if his attorney had gotten the tapes. By this time, John was tired of playing games. He wanted to know what was going on, especially since Michael had already spent a million dollars of MTV's, Showtime's and Vestron's money on ‘Thriller’. How could they now destroy the tapes?

  When Michael explained that his church had threatened to expel him if the ‘Thriller’ tape was released to the public, John was astounded. He tried to convince Michael that he should not allow the church elders to dictate his artistry, but Michael wasn't interested in his opinion at that point.

  Michael called back the next day. ‘Do you have the tapes?’ he asked John. John did. When Michael asked, ‘Did you destroy them?’ John said that he had done just that; actually, though, they were sitting on his desk. ‘Okay, then fine,’ Michael said. He hung up.

  Coincidentally, at this same time John had been reading a book about Bela Lugosi. After thinking about Lugosi and his Dracula character, John called Michael back and engaged him in a conversation about the horror star, explaining to Michael that Lugosi had been a religious man but that, as an actor, he played the demonic Dracula and actually built a career for himself by doing so. Michael listened intently as John then told him that Lugosi's religious beliefs had no bearing on his art, and that the fact that he portrayed a vampire in movies didn't make him any less religious in real life. He suggested that Michael might want to reconsider issuing the ‘Thriller’ video with a disclaimer at the beginning stating that the work was not reflective of Michael's personal or religious convictions. Michael thought John's suggestion was brilliant. He wasn't even angry when John confessed that he'd not destroyed the tapes, after all.

  The next day, John telephoned the video's director, John Landis, to tell him that there would have to be a disclaimer. ‘Bullshit,’ Landis said. ‘No way.’