I'm not completely sure how I feel about Michael Jackson's death. On the one hand, the man was a musical giant, talented in ways I can't begin to understand. On the other, he was an isolated and--at best--misunderstood human being. At worst, he was an alienated, twisted pervert and freak. In any case, the recent news of his death brings back a hazy memory from several years ago, a story about Jackson that seems poignant in light of his passing. First a disclaimer. In all truth, my memory of the following is quite hazy and my recollection far from precise. Even so, the gist of the story is quite relevant to Jackson's recent death I think.
In the early-to-mid 90's (I can't remember exactly when), I had a cousin in the US Marine Corps. One summer we visited his mother and he happened to be home on leave. He had a buddy with him, a gunnery sergeant if I recall correctly. I can't remember the sergeant's name, but have only a fuzzy recollection of short-cropped (what else would he have?) dark hair and a mustache. Anyway, apparently, before this sergeant became a marine, he'd worked in the kitchens at a Disney World restaurant.
During the period surrounding Jackson's 'Off the Wall' album, just before Thriller, Jackson appeared at Disney World for a promotional appearance or a concert or some damn thing. Maybe it was just to secret visit Disney World. I really can't recall. As I said, this memory is a bit hazy. In any case, apparently, the scene surrounding his appearance became a mob and at some point, to escape, Jackson inadvertently found his way into the kitchen where this sergeant-to-be happened to be working that day (alone apparently). There followed a brief exchange between superstar and sergeant-to-be that seems, even in condensed, not-fully-remembered form, quite telling. Jackson, the sergeant claimed, talked 10 minutes or so, basically saying that he rarely got to engage in one-on-one conversation. Even then, just before 'Thriller' (which would catapult his career into the stratosphere), he was usually surrounded by a mirage of handlers, publicists, lawyers, media, fans and so forth; he rarely found time for simple, meaningful one-on-one human interaction; only when he snuck away--frequently in disguise.
I've considered that story several times since hearing about Jackson's death, vague and hazy as it is, and I can't help reflecting on how sad, in many ways, Jackson's life became. He was very young when this story allegedly occurred and not nearly as famous as he would become when 'Thriller' dropped. Think about that a moment. Here was a young man, not yet 25, already so famous that he rarely experienced something most of us take for granted--simple conversation. And that was his way of life almost from birth.
The majority of entertainment's elite (I'm thinking of people like Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, Bruce Willis, Demi Moore, Ashton Kutcher, Bon Jovi, Poison, Tom Hanks--and the list goes on) lived in anonymity as they clawed to the top. They were allowed to experience life as every-day-joes. They could walk into a restaurant, a bookstore, a department store or any other public place and just be. They could have dinner or go shopping for groceries without being accosted by paparazzi or autograph seekers. They could attend movies or sporting events or take their kids to school without drawing a mob.Jackson never really experienced such anonymity. Think about that a second. From the time he was 5 or 6 years old, Jackson was the lead singer of the Jackson 5. His impact on that group--his star power--was instantaneous and pervasive.
I reflected on that last night over dinner and quite conversation with my wife. Jackson had access, one imagines, to anything he desired. As such, what would he dream of? Whereas everyday-joes like you or me might dream of great riches (winning the lottery or some huge inheritance) or fame, might Jackson have dreamed of quite conversation at dinner with someone that really cared about him? Might he have dreamed of walking into a restaurant or theatre or any other public place and just being nobody for a night? Maybe. Maybe absurd though. But the Michael Jackson from that gunnery sergeant's story--the child still coming to grips with overwhelming fame--seems likely to have dreamed such things. Such fancy seem less likely for the Michael Jackson of later years--the surgically-enhanced, isolated freak of a man-child he became. By then he'd lived so long in the fish bowl of fame, that he completely lost touch with even dreams of normalcy.
Say what you will of Jackson--talented, freakish, perverted, criminal. I wouldn't argue against any of those. But whatever the case, all of society I think, has some meaure of culpability in molding the human being he became. And perhaps--in some very small measure--that's the reason behind all the media coverage and hoopla surrounding his death. Maybe that's the reason why so many have forgotten the other vital, talented individual who died that day (Fahrah Fawcett). Maybe there's a thread of simple guilt behind it all. Perhaps as we consume all this coverage, as we mourn, as we pity and gawk, perhaps there's just a trace of remorse lingering alongside all that sadness and pity and disgust. Perhaps.
In the early-to-mid 90's (I can't remember exactly when), I had a cousin in the US Marine Corps. One summer we visited his mother and he happened to be home on leave. He had a buddy with him, a gunnery sergeant if I recall correctly. I can't remember the sergeant's name, but have only a fuzzy recollection of short-cropped (what else would he have?) dark hair and a mustache. Anyway, apparently, before this sergeant became a marine, he'd worked in the kitchens at a Disney World restaurant.
During the period surrounding Jackson's 'Off the Wall' album, just before Thriller, Jackson appeared at Disney World for a promotional appearance or a concert or some damn thing. Maybe it was just to secret visit Disney World. I really can't recall. As I said, this memory is a bit hazy. In any case, apparently, the scene surrounding his appearance became a mob and at some point, to escape, Jackson inadvertently found his way into the kitchen where this sergeant-to-be happened to be working that day (alone apparently). There followed a brief exchange between superstar and sergeant-to-be that seems, even in condensed, not-fully-remembered form, quite telling. Jackson, the sergeant claimed, talked 10 minutes or so, basically saying that he rarely got to engage in one-on-one conversation. Even then, just before 'Thriller' (which would catapult his career into the stratosphere), he was usually surrounded by a mirage of handlers, publicists, lawyers, media, fans and so forth; he rarely found time for simple, meaningful one-on-one human interaction; only when he snuck away--frequently in disguise.
I've considered that story several times since hearing about Jackson's death, vague and hazy as it is, and I can't help reflecting on how sad, in many ways, Jackson's life became. He was very young when this story allegedly occurred and not nearly as famous as he would become when 'Thriller' dropped. Think about that a moment. Here was a young man, not yet 25, already so famous that he rarely experienced something most of us take for granted--simple conversation. And that was his way of life almost from birth.
The majority of entertainment's elite (I'm thinking of people like Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, Bruce Willis, Demi Moore, Ashton Kutcher, Bon Jovi, Poison, Tom Hanks--and the list goes on) lived in anonymity as they clawed to the top. They were allowed to experience life as every-day-joes. They could walk into a restaurant, a bookstore, a department store or any other public place and just be. They could have dinner or go shopping for groceries without being accosted by paparazzi or autograph seekers. They could attend movies or sporting events or take their kids to school without drawing a mob.Jackson never really experienced such anonymity. Think about that a second. From the time he was 5 or 6 years old, Jackson was the lead singer of the Jackson 5. His impact on that group--his star power--was instantaneous and pervasive.
I reflected on that last night over dinner and quite conversation with my wife. Jackson had access, one imagines, to anything he desired. As such, what would he dream of? Whereas everyday-joes like you or me might dream of great riches (winning the lottery or some huge inheritance) or fame, might Jackson have dreamed of quite conversation at dinner with someone that really cared about him? Might he have dreamed of walking into a restaurant or theatre or any other public place and just being nobody for a night? Maybe. Maybe absurd though. But the Michael Jackson from that gunnery sergeant's story--the child still coming to grips with overwhelming fame--seems likely to have dreamed such things. Such fancy seem less likely for the Michael Jackson of later years--the surgically-enhanced, isolated freak of a man-child he became. By then he'd lived so long in the fish bowl of fame, that he completely lost touch with even dreams of normalcy.
Say what you will of Jackson--talented, freakish, perverted, criminal. I wouldn't argue against any of those. But whatever the case, all of society I think, has some meaure of culpability in molding the human being he became. And perhaps--in some very small measure--that's the reason behind all the media coverage and hoopla surrounding his death. Maybe that's the reason why so many have forgotten the other vital, talented individual who died that day (Fahrah Fawcett). Maybe there's a thread of simple guilt behind it all. Perhaps as we consume all this coverage, as we mourn, as we pity and gawk, perhaps there's just a trace of remorse lingering alongside all that sadness and pity and disgust. Perhaps.
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