A, sa nu uit... fotografiile sunt facute de Annie Leibovitz, unul dintre cei mai premiati si mai cautati fotografi ai secolului 20, asa zic unii...
The Boy Who Would Be King
By the time Michael Jackson died, his unparalleled fame and dark troubles had locked him into a fragile shell. With her interviews and notes from the early chapters of the pop king’s career, the author resurrects the innocent, ebullient, exploring youth as he confided his struggle to move beyond his family and take control of his art. Photographs by Annie Leibovitz, from her 1989 V.F. shoot with a then 31-year-old Jackson.
The Westin Crown Center Hotel, Kansas City, Missouri, February 23, 1988: Michael Jackson had just finished the opening night of his Bad tour and his manager, Frank DiLeo, arranged for me to visit the star in his hotel suite. No handlers, no bodyguards, no hangers-on, no family members—unusual for a Jackson visitation—but we’d had a friendly journalist-to-artist relationship for the past 16 years, and Michael asked to see me. For Kansas City, the suite was lavish, the size of a small apartment, but as I entered, let in by a security guard, Michael was nowhere to be seen. “Michael?,” I called as I walked around. After a few minutes, I heard giggling from behind a door. The 29-year-old Michael Jackson was literally playing hide-and-seek. Eventually he appeared, wearing black trousers and a bright-red shirt, his semi-straightened hair in a loose ponytail with a few strands falling over his face. He hugged me. He was taller than I’d remembered, taller than he appeared in photos, and while his giggling continued, I thought that the hug was a hug from a man—not a boy—and while there was nothing sexual, it just was strong. Then he pulled back, looked at me, and said, in the lower and more “normal” of the two voices he could produce at will, “What’s that smell? What’s that perfume? I know that smell.” I laughed. “Oh, Michael, you don’t know this perfume. It’s an old drag-queen perfume from the 1950s.” At the words “drag queen” he started giggling and repeated: “Drag queen … hahahahahaha!!! No, I know it. It’s Jungle Gardenia, right?” I was more than slightly surprised. “How do you know that? The only people who’ve ever recognized this perfume are Bryan Ferry and Nick Rhodes. Well, I guess you’re not as la-la as they say you are.” The phrase “la-la” cracked him up and he repeated it: “La-la … hahahahahaha!!!”nnn
A few days later I sent a case of Jungle Gardenia to his hotel suite at New York City’s Helmsley Palace. The following night, on March 2, I stood in the wings at Radio City Music Hall as Michael waited with gospel singers the Winans, about to perform “Man in the Mirror” for the Grammy Awards live telecast. Looking at me he whispered, “Thanks for the smells.…I’m wearing it now.”
Before the animal companions, before the onstage crotch grabbing, before the disfiguring plastic surgeries, before the peculiar disguises, before the suspect marriages, before the mysteriously conceived children, before the rumored drug addictions and insomnia, and even before the friendships with aging legends, the hospital stays, the alleged family estrangements, the profligate spending, the grotesque tchotchke hoarding, the over-the-top fantasyland ranch, the Filipino prisoners dancing in formation to his songs, and certainly way before the child-molestation accusations and trial, Michael Jackson was one of the most talented, adorable, enthusiastic, sweet, ebullient performers I’d ever interviewed. From 1972 to 1989, I spent time with Michael at his family’s home in Encino, California, in New York City, backstage at his concerts, at parties, at Studio 54, and on the phone. And in 1972, when Michael was 14 but I thought he was 12 (he was 10 when he got to Motown but was told to say he was 8 because he’d seem cuter), we did the first of many interviews.
Havenhurst, Encino, California, October 8, 1972: A sign on the gate to the Jackson family’s house says, beware of guard dog, with the phone number of the place that trained the dog. (“Promotion,” Michael tells me later.) According to Michael, Liberace used to live across the street, and the Jacksons would visit him and look at his diamonds. The family has a German shepherd named Heavy and a Doberman named Hitler (the group’s drummer named him Hitler), but when they talk about that dog in interviews they call him Duke. The bottom of the swimming pool is decorated with two blue-tile dolphins. Lemons and tangerines grow on the trees around the pool. Michael shows me around the house: the pool, the animals, his room—with two beds, a clock with time zones from various cities around the world, the TV, a phone (there is also a pay phone in the house). He climbs a tree, he does dance steps, he is outgoing, inquisitive, fun. I call a friend and say, “This kid is going to be the greatest entertainer ever, seriously, like Frank Sinatra.”Lisa Robinson: The group is going to perform in London soon?
Michael Jackson: Yes … and I want to go shopping when I go over there, get a lot of souvenirs, and antiques … Ever hear of Napoleon?
L.R. Yes …
M.J. I want to see him too.
L.R. You mean the monuments? His tomb? In Paris?
M.J. You’ve seen that? What airline did you take?
L.R. Well, several. I’ve taken Pan Am, TWA, Air France …
M.J. What kind of tape recorder are you using?
L.R. Sony. [A discussion ensues about the size of the tape recorder, how, if they get any smaller, people will be able to sneak them into concerts, tape, and make bootlegs.] They’re really excited you’re going to be performing in England.
M.J. I know, we got a lot of letters, so we decided to go. But we want this time to be the biggest … for the Queen.
L.R. Ah … you’re performing for the Queen. Her palace is huge …
M.J. You’ve seen it?
L.R. Well, only from the outside. Have any of the other groups told you what it’s like performing in England?
M.J. Well, the Supremes and the Temptations told us some stuff. You ever hear of Marty Feldman? [I say yes.] When the Supremes went there, Ringo Starr went shopping with them. But I don’t know what [the audiences] will be like, whether they’ll be quiet or loud.
L.R. So, what do you like to do in your spare time?
M.J. Swim … play pool … We don’t go much out of the gate because we have [everything] here. When we lived in the other house, we would go to the park to play basketball, but now we have it here.
(Michael asks me more questions than I ask him; there are discussions about my maroon nail polish, buying antiques on Portobello Road, the Apollo Theater, Madison Square Garden.)
L.R. Do you ever get scared onstage?
M.J. No. If you know what you’re doing, you’re not scared onstage.
Interview with Michael, circa 1974:
L.R. Do people tell you what to do?
M.J. Well, I never like to stop learning—even Stevie [Wonder] says that. If you stop learning, then you’re dead. People used to tell us what to do and we listened, but we filled in our own stuff, too … We still have people work with us, but no way are we puppets [laughs], no way.
L.R. What sort of thing are you going to do on the TV show?
M.J. I’m used to being highlighted on the show, but I also do different things—like dancing. It’s a very showbizzy kind of thing, we get funky in the front, and in the closing we get real spankin’—that’s what the fans like.
L.R. Any plans for acting? Movies?
M.J. I was supposed to do Roots, but it was done during our own TV show, and I couldn’t do it—I had an offer for that.That’s the kind of thing I’d like to be my first film—a big TV event, because then the most people can see it.
L.R. What other plans do you have for the future?
M.J. I’d like to write my own things, because an artist knows what fits him best. Every artist can’t write his own material, but if you feel like you can do it—like Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder—you should do it. At first, people didn’t think that Stevie could record himself—they thought he was taking a risk. Then he did those albums and they were dynamite.
To me, ballads are special, because you can have a pop song that’ll be known for three weeks and then you’ll hear nothing else about it. Nobody else will record it and it’ll just be gone. But if you do a good ballad, it’ll be [in] the world forever. Like [Stevie Wonder’s] “Living for the City”—that’s a great song, and it opens up the minds of a lotof people, but it won’t be around as long as “My Cherie Amour” or “For Once in My Life” or “You Are the Sunshine of My Life.”—Michael Jackson
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