When I reach the stage, a miracle happens. The rhythm absorbs me, the lights make me dizzy.... and problems disappear. The accompanying rhythm throbs in the back, vibrates, and leads me...
....What really make me happy - what I really love - are art and singing for an audience. I don't really care about all these parade-like decorations. I love to engage my soul in something that is taken well and liked by the people.
Moon Walk, Michael Jackson
During the summer of 1958, a baby was born in one of the poorest residential neighbourhoods of a remote province in the United States of America. Probably, no one predicted his life to come... He was among the millions of Afro-American children in the States
And yet – he was successful. Is this the American dream – you start at the bottom and climb to the top? How does it happen – some people succeed while others fail to fulfil the dream? What is the right path to the top or may be, life events are a matter of pure luck? In my view except for luck, a considerable degree of talent and a large amount of effort should be involved. Most important, one needs patience, perseverance, and a firm belief in one's own abilities. This is the right formula and Michael mastered all of its components. Yet, what is the actual definition of a great man? Einstein wrote about one of Charley Chaplin's movies: “Your movie Gold Rush is easy to comprehend, regardless of the person's whereabouts. You will become a successful man.” Charley Chaplin responded “I admire you even more. Nobody on this planet understands your theory of relativity, but you've managed to become a great man”.
Michael Jackson also became a great man. He is the only person who knows the price of all this: how much he worked and what he missed. Unfortunately, we could only observe the result – which is perfect and lovely – but we can't see the efforts and the sweat invested into that. His father Joseph managed to pull his family out of the misery and destitution in which they lived. Joseph's attitude toward Michael made the future star unhappy; however, he always admitted that he was thankful for his father's contribution. The father was harsh and demanding, believing that he would succeed if his family and children turned out successful. So, he led them to the triumph.
Fame is a great thing! However, have you ever thought about its true essence? This is not a possession: something you can touch, see, or breathe in. You can only feel it. In practice, fame is perceived through the attitude of others toward oneself. Michael touched fame through his fans and the treatment of all people toward him. However, he was also scared: fame made early arrival and never left him. World-scale fame is haunting him even now: post mortem.
People do all sorts of things for a brief moment of fame – participate in reality shows, appear on TV, give interviews... even lie, steal, and kill. Fame entitles people to recognition and admiration on the part of one's fellows – you rise above the others.
This instinct may be found among animals as well. Differences in power, agility, and inventiveness divide animals into domineering and subordinate. Hierarchy fights among the members of animal groups take ritual forms, resulting in domineering positions within the herd, flock, or swarm. Standing atop, the winner gains the obedience and admiration of all other members.
Michael Jackson had it all. His fans were the most affectionate and most numerous, chasing him all over. They were around and after him at any spot of the world. They crowded the stadiums at concerts, hanged out under the balconies of his hotel rooms, ran after his cars, and waited for him at any place that he visited. Tickets for his forthcoming return to London were sold out in hours. Fans cried and wept after his death while rediscovering his art. A considerable part of them has forgotten about him since his disappearance from public. After his death, fans showed their love to him by paying tributes – they danced on the city squares, train stations, and commercial centres in America, Western and Eastern Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia.
Michael loved his fans. He always told them that he loved them. Furthermore, Michael shared that if possible, he would meet each and everyone in person. He knew that his fans were the people who held his work in high esteem – they have helped him reach the place he aimed. Michael always spoke to fans, giving autographs and presents, hugging, and kissing them. He was close to people although many a time, he had well-founded reasons to be scared by his fans` love. The might of the crowd is formidable – emotions can even lead to death. However, fans are just people with their own life, problems, past, present, and future. Michael and his music were simply a part of people's existence: he helped them become better and resist in the face of hardship. Michael passed some of his love to them.
Here is the story of a fan that was able to touch to her dream:
“In 1992, I decided to see Michael's concert for the first time. The event, headed “Dangerous Tour”, took place in Istanbul. Though travelling alone, I found many friends and most important – a female friend who would play a huge role in my life ahead.
The day of the concert came, and all of us headed to the stadium. Four hours of pushing and jostling followed on the outside– naturally, we bought tickets for the grassy sector below, where places are scarce to none. Everyone fights for a place closer to the stage. After all the hassle, we were informed that the concert would be cancelled. You can imagine the amount of tears that we shed, especially after one simpleton lied that Michael was dead. Before we understood that he had a light form of cold…we shed countless tears… we went through the most tragic time of our life. Even newspapers posted photos of my female friend and me – just horrible….
In 1993, my friend A. and I headed to Istanbul for another concert. Then, I saw him for the first time. It was so unreal and incredible to watch him onstage with my own eyes. We were upfront, hungry and thirsty, spending the whole day surrounded by impossible crowds. Yet, none of us cared about all that. Screams and hysteria – the atmosphere was identical to the shows I saw on records. The crowd had squeezed us so much that we couldn't breathe, leaving us on the verge of passing out. So, we got to know that as well!
The History Tour came in 1996. A. and I went to three consecutive concerts. The first performance in Prague was also the very first time when I saw Michael, just a hand reach away, in front of his hotel. He approached the fans and started giving autographs. The hysteric screams you hear are impossible to explain. Everyone entered his own world, leaving his material body behind. That's how I felt it back then- the hassle around the event. The concert was simply great. We hanged out close to the stadium the night preceding the concert. He was rehearsing and we could hear him. We were trying to climb up the stadium wall in order to see him. One German TV station caught a close up of my climbing attempt. I have the video in Bulgaria – it is so dear to my heart.
We were hanging out in front of the hotel at all times. Michael (you know how he was) appeared on the window and threw various things. Below, we were ready to kill each other for a single piece – he was throwing pillows and photos. The moment he threw his shirt was scary, but I (crazy as I was) fought with teeth and nails for this precious item. Now, I keep a piece of his T-shirt back home. I could smell the rich perfume back then. So, I decided to store it in a plastic bag in order to preserve the scent. This effort was of no avail.
The next stop was Budapest – the greatest moment of my life was about to come. Many people may find this unreal – the happening is unreal even to me after such a long time. It is the truth, however. A. and I used a clever trick to book rooms at the hotel where Michael stayed (thanks to some cool dudes at another hotel). To make the long story short – we got two single rooms at his hotel Kempinski. We entered the elevator trembling and pretended that we had no clue of Michael's whereabouts. Imagine how we felt upon discovering that the singles were located on his floor. The room next to mine was adjacent to Michael's room. His bodyguards have crowded the area outside. Upon entering one of the rooms, we screamed - muffling the sound with pillows – and didn't know what to do with ourselves. Naturally, we decided to hang out at the floor area. We spotted a lounge and occupied it immediately. However, the bodyguards came at one point and asked if we could return to our rooms. We wanted to make a complaint, but the fear of being expelled kept us silent. In brief, these two days were hyper unreal. We didn't meet Michael while hanging out at the lounge. However, the room doors were equipped with spy peepholes: you can just guess the amount of hours I spent on spying. We saw him just once, quickly passing through the lobby and entering the elevator. Unfortunately, it was buzzing with people.
At the concert, we decided to skip three songs and rushed back to the hotel. We entered the lobby and started waiting. There was almost no one around but we were trembling already, as if anticipating success. Michael entered the hotel lobby, surrounded by his bodyguards. A. and I screamed twice: “Michael, could you please have a photo with us?” The bodyguards immediately decided to weed us out, but Michael nodded. Not seeing the sign, his suite continued to keep us away. Then, he said: “It's ok,” and we were quick to approach him. I told Michael that I loved him and watching him so closely, I managed to take a glimpse of the beautiful eyes which looked at me.
At one point, I felt his hand sliding over my body. He stretched his arm and pulled a phosphate stick from my pocket (the same that I carried on his concert). Looking at me, he said in his tender voice: “You have attended my concert”. I don't know how I've managed to respond: “Yes, Michael, the concert was great”. He thanked, we hugged each other, and took photos together. Now, I got completely carried away: A. and I were constantly repeating that we loved him. He didn't want to turn his back to us and bowing like Japanese, he walked backwards right to the elevator. I felt so much love for him, and I'm sure that he felt it, too.
We had so many things to say, but we simply blocked. I am glad that my mouth betrayed me as I had to speak in English. Girls, the sense is just as you've read in the books – I felt as if flying out and away from my body and watching atop. I don't know whether adrenalin did it for me, but I felt as if taking an opiate. Just indescribable! We felt the utmost happiness – A. and I jumped and hugged each other like little children. The people who saw us applauded, while a group of Japanese videotaped the whole encounter. When we made sense of the happening, it was too late – the Japanese were already gone. We headed for Bulgaria the same evening.
Two days later, A. and I headed to Romania, firmly decided to repeat the hotel happening. We couldn't book in, but we've managed to spot him passing through the lobby three times. We got to know his whole entourage: singers, coiffeurs, dancers, and his personal bodyguard Wayne. He managed to bring us personal autographs, written on Michael's photos. So many things happened....
As of 1997, I forgot to mention that we, a group of fans, headed to Ljubljana, Slovenia for a concert. We travelled for three days by train but at the end, we were dropped off at the Slovenian border: Michael had cancelled his concert again. We shed tears once more.
In 1998, I joined some friends of mine for his concert “MJ and Friends” in Munich. We were hanging out in front of his hotel, waiting for him to appear. The concert was of good quality, and many stars sang before him. I managed to get a place close to the stage upfront. Lovely memories abound: all fans camping in tents in front of the hotel and sleeping outside, getting to know fans from all over the world. At the window, Michael is the showman again....
The last time when I watched the second of his two concerts “30th Anniversary Special” was in 2001. The event took place in Madison Square Garden, New York on 10 September, 2001. This was the night before the twin towers collapsed. The concert brought such an indescribable happiness inside my soul. Maybe, I have my lucky star - I've managed to charm the security squad on the outside, and I was let in without a ticket. I've missed just ten minutes of Lisa Minnelli`s performance, not that much. Moreover, I took a seat that was worth $ 1600. A group of boys took pity of me, and I partied with them like crazy. As you know, many stars took part in the show: the atmosphere was rather unreal. I was close to the stage again. Michael was wonderful.”
I'm sharing the story as told by this girl: there is no interference in the details or the story line. One can immediately sense emotion, joy, and love. Michael possesses this unbelievable energy which attracts people toward him. His onstage bearing is unique – something that is characteristic of no other performer.
Fame did not change him. He was eccentric and different, without taking excessive pride. He had a lot of money – even as a child – but he continued working. He was generous to all people around him. On the other hand, he knew the value of money: always earned rather than taken for granted. Maybe for this reason, he knew how to dispose of them. I am inclined to think that Michael was following one maxim, retold in the words of Charlie Chaplin here. The excerpt comes from a letter to his daughter Geraldine:
“I have tasted hunger, and I know too well how living without a roof is! Even more, I have felt the humiliating pain of the buffoon-wanderer, whose breasts are filled with a raving ocean of pride. Coins, thrown as alms, had to drain it. Despite all, I am alive and little is spoken about the living.... At midnight when you leave the large salon, forget about your wealthy admirers. However, do not forget to ask your taxi driver how his wife is... If she is pregnant, or she has no money to buy her child a garment, put money into the driver's hand. I've requested that the bank pays you for these expenses. About the others – you have to send the correct numbers! From time to time, take the subway or the bus and have a look around. Watch the people! Say at least once a day: “I am one of them!” Yes! You are one of them, my girl. Even more! Before art gives you wings to fly in the vaults of heaven, it breaks your legs. And if you place yourself high above the audience – leave the stage immediately! Take the first taxi and go to the Parisian suburbia. I know them too well!... There, you will see many dancers just like you – even prettier and prouder than you. Nothing is left from the dazzling glitter of the spotlight at your theatre! The moon is their spotlight. Look, look at them well! They dance better than you, don't they? Admit it, my girl! Someone will always dance better than you! And remember – no one has ever been so rude in Charlie's family as to shout at a cabman or to mock the beggar, sitting near Seine...
I will die, but you will live... I don't want you to ever live in misery! Together with this letter, I am sending you a blank cheque. Write as much as you want on it. However when you spend two franks, don't forget to say that the third coin is not yours. This money belongs to the stranger who needs one frank. You can easily find this man. If you want to seek poor men, you will find them all over the place. I talk about money because I know the deceitful power of these devils... You know, I've spent a long time at the circus. I've always worried about the tightrope-dancers. However, I have to tell you a truth, my girl – in comparison to tightrope- dancers, walking on a flimsy rope, people fall more easily while standing on a firm ground. Maybe some evening, the glitter of the most expensive diamond will delude you. At this very night, the diamond will be your flimsy rope and falling down is guaranteed. Maybe some of these days, the handsome face of a prince will deceive you. Then, you will be an unskilled tightrope-dancer, and the inexperienced dancers always fall down. Do not sell your heart for gold and adornments. The largest diamond is the Sun. Luckily, the sun glitters out of each person's face!”
Words of Charlie Chaplin or words of Michael Jackson – they fit in well. Understandably, Charlie Chaplin was among Michael Jackson's most venerated personalities: he was Michael's idol. Years ago, he spoke many truths which are applicable to our realities. So much is said with such little words: always help people if you own more than them, don't take excessive pride as you may fall from the heights, and do not become money's slave. Michael believed in all that. He was too good for this world. Some even say – too naive. He was the purest person on the world and that's why, he was destroyed.
The yellow press – what makes people search bad traits in others? If they can't find any, the traits will be made up. The term “yellow press”, used in the meaning of press which is described as “poor quality”, “dishonest” and in search of cheap sensations, originates in the United States. Where to look for the distinguishing characteristics of the yellow press? Texts sound tempting. And correct.
I don't personally know anyone who can say something positive for the so called yellow press. On the other hand, I know plenty of people who regularly buy one or two titles coming from the genre. Why is that? Is there pleasure in reading about bad happenings in the lives of successful individuals? Maybe, you reassure yourself that while life is not perfect, neither is the life of those who seemingly have it all. Yes, his life contains dirt as well. Upon reading the evidence, your inner satisfaction grows, and your consciousness falls asleep. “Michael Jackson Tore the Anus of a 12 Years Old” – how is it possible to see such a heading? What kind of person came up with it and what is the newspaper that published the article? This heading is one of the thousands of similar titles. Free press does not embody yellow press, as some would think. However, journalists offer just what is demanded: bread and circuses. That's what people wanted centuries ago. And – they continue to look for the same. Yet if you repeat a lie 1000 times – it becomes a truth that cannot be denied in any way.
Michael Jackson came into all that. People stopped taking interest in his music and dances – his onstage performance – and wanted to know about his bed partners, appearance, habits` particularities, etc. And - if one finds it difficult to get trustworthy sources of information, the easiest thing he can do is to concoct facts or to exaggerate some rumour, transforming it into truth. Why not – if people believe and want that, and if they make money in this manner?
The yellow press is an important factor for tranquillity within the state. If the nation is bored, left without entertainment, the ordinary citizenry may give vent to its indignation. People may suddenly realize that they deserve more than what they are offered. What will we do then? And now – while we discuss the latest gaff of Britney Spears or the newest sweat heart of Brad Pitt – the danger of citizens` uprisings (and just demands for normal life) is virtually non-existent. We are content while the ruling class is twice as happier.
The truth is that all people pay for their fame. Even complete isolation from the world, as Michael Jackson's at his ranch Neverland, did not help him. Some people search for fame during their entire lives, but Michael got that in his childhood. Then, he fought and looked for escape routes during the rest of his life.
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